Zara stepped into the training grounds, her boots crunching against the dirt. The warriors were all there, sweating and grunting through their drills. She had a need to unleash everything pent up inside her… the anger, the frustration, the heat that never left her chest, the constant turmoil of her emotions.Zara picked up a sword, the cold metal firm in her grip, and faced the dummy. It was a worn, battered training tool, but it would serve its purpose. Every strike was sharper than the last, harder, angrier. She channeled her rage into each swing, letting the force of her emotions guide her movements.She remembered every humiliation, every insult, every push and shove she had endured since she’d stepped into this pack, every moment of fear and powerlessness. Each swing carved it out of her, releasing the pent-up tension, allowing her to breathe a little easier. The crowd around Zara had gone still. She could feel their stares, the disbelief in their posture, the shock at her sud
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