...The day I saved my people from certain death was the day I was banished for doing so by my own father, the chief of the Desert Runners. He is a tall and burly man with greying red hair and cracked skin from the harsh desert winds. He has bold blue eyes that can pierce through even the boldest of hearts. Though he can be kind and generous, he is a traditionalist. Not to mention, he has a short fuse. Anything can set him off.
Like me insisting that I will not be married off and sold to a man like some stock animal.
"You will marry Byrd and that is final!" he demanded, his thick Russian accent making him almost impossible to understand. I looked over at Byrd, a hopelessly idiotic man who was almost thirty. He had deep-set brown eyes and black hair that was shaved on either side with a French braid down the middle. He has proven himself to be the strongest man in the tribe besides my father, by far. However, I prefer smarts over strength. And smarts... not something Byrd had whatsoever.
"Byrd," I asked one time, "What is two plus two?" he stared at me, clueless.
"Two plus two?"
"Yes, two plus two," he kept his blank expression, no thoughts behind his eyes. "Just take two and count on two from that," I hinted.
"Ah!" He looked down at his fingers and mouthed some numbers. Finally, he looked up and beamed. "Lady Fiona, the answer is simple," he concluded, "Two plus two is obviously eight!"
So, Byrd was not someone I was interested in at all. In fact, none of the men in the tribe piqued my interest. My father said whether or not I liked the man mattered, it was the other way around. I would grow to like him eventually, he says. He would give me lecture after lecture of the same stupid rules of the tribe that made women objects and breeding machines and nothing more, and if we were to break any of these rules, we'd be banished from the tribe or worse, killed.
That is exactly how I ended up lost and alone on Sanctuary's border...
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