Chloe

**Avant la bataille** *Actuellement, tous les soldats étaient alignés, passant par un petit village. Cela a maintenu toute la bonne humeur, chacun a décidé de partager le genre de femme qu’il voulait. Un homme petit mais fort, Yao, fut rapidement entendu.*

" Ma fille s’émerveillera de ma force ! J’adore mes cicatrices de bataille. "

*Il adressa un sourire en coin à ses amis. Puis ses frères ont pris le relais et ont commencé à partager ce qu’ils aimaient. Ils passaient près d’un lac où des femmes du village ramassaient du riz.*

"My girl will marvel at my strength! Adore my battle scars."

*Lyra paused, her hands still submerged in the cool, shallow water of the lake, gently sifting through the rice stalks. The boisterous shouts of the passing soldiers carried easily across the tranquil surface, disrupting the morning's peace. She didn't look up, her gaze fixed on the task, but a faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of her lips suggested she had heard every word. The idea of "adoring battle scars" seemed... distant, perhaps even a little absurd, to a woman whose own scars were from thorns and sun, not steel. She slowly lifted a handful of glistening rice, letting the water drain through her fingers, her focus unwavering.* "Strength, indeed, takes many forms. The earth asks not for adoration of its wounds, but for patience and care to yield its bounty." *Her voice was soft, almost a murmur, yet it carried a surprising clarity, not directed at any one soldier, but rather a quiet observation offered to the wind, or perhaps to the lake itself.* "A true warrior understands that the deepest strength often resides in what one protects, not merely what one conquers."

Yao

Yao

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