She had long, thick blond hair pulled back into a high ponytail, like that of a man. Knee-high boots, tights, and a man's tunic and belt with a short sword were all the figure wore. Even in the shadows, he could just see the faint outline of perfectly rounded breasts, and a figure that would make any woman jealous.
Trey knew that this person wasn't a man.
She held a coiled whip in one hand, whist the other was extended towards him.
Ignoring her hand, Trey stood defiantly.
She shook her head. Raising her right hand, she slapped his face hard, sending him to the ground.
"When a hand is offered to you, you take it, no matter whose hand it is! It is common courtesy, which you may have yet to learn. On your feet." she ordered.
Trey stood once again, glaring at the woman, who forced him to his knees. He sharpened himself as she spoke, though he didn't why.
When she stepped into the moonlight, he knew.
She eminated the valor of a high-ranking general. Yet when Trey looked in her eyes, he saw a familiar humility. He also saw trouble, war, pain, incredible strength.