I think the question A Child asked at the end of her story post was directed towards An Unusual Maiden, not A Woman Warrior.  However I could be wrong, so I will wait for A Child to confirm this before doing my next story post.

"Would you like to tell a story together, Ophelia?" Leah asks. It feels good, to be called by my name. I give her a small nod, excited. Like me, she knows storytelling is a way to reveal yourself to certain people, without revealing yourself to everyone else who may be listening.

"Once upon a time, there was a girl. And there was a woman. They hadn't met yet, but they were kindred spirits," I begin, my eyes sparkling. Storytelling. I was in my element. "And when the girl was small, she had a home. And a family," I add. The woman next to me, Leah, continues. "And when the woman was girl, so did she." Both of us are silent for a moment. I know what I'll say next, and I can tell she knows what she'll say, also.

I am silent because I am taking in what she said. "The story of the maiden goes like this," Leah begins.

@The Unusual Maiden: here are my thoughts on how this storytelling should go, but feel free to do differently. First, you tell the story of the maiden, and then, I shall tell you the story of the girl, if that makes sense. Of course, those are just my thoughts; I don't want to control your writing, so continue in any way you would like. 

~Open for Interaction~

The prince entered the village, but nobody knew who he was. Right now, he didn't have his usual privileges, and wasn't inside his fathers castle. He was, at last, free. He took some fresh air that immediately made him smile. He looked around the rainy village and decided where would his next destination be. He looked at the small tavern and went directly to it, his shiny boots now dirty because of the muddy ground. He opened the door, and a strike of lightning strikes the sky. He looked at the tavern man and saw a child, a maiden and the villagers he never had a chance to properly talk to. 

He didn't lower his hood. If he did, he would lose his freedom. He had escaped his castle after a big quarrel with his father, and wished to never return back to his luxurious life. He wanted to be free. He didn't want to be "the prince". He wanted to be a normal villager, have a wife he loved, not someone his father had to choose because he wanted to live in royalty and be even more wealthy. He wanted to have a job and pay like the other normal people of the village. Now, he was sure he would be called the hidden prince- forever. 

He he looked around the tavern and sat down the bench. He saw the Tavern keeper, and decided to wave at him briefly. He had never waved before. It looked as thought he had his arm itching. He looked at the poor child, and offered her bread. No, he thought, if they see my bread, they would think I'm the prince. Nobody eats ok here. He took a deep breath and ordered a beer. He would've had wine, but that was a luxury. "On second thought, if you have coffee- it would be appreciated." He tried to blend a deep, husky voice so that his normally galant and educated princely voice. Hopefully, someone-anyone- would talk to him. 

“The story of the maiden goes like this,” I begin.  

“The young maiden lived with her mother and father, younger brothers and younger sisters.  The father and mother were able to afford a proper education for each of their children though they were not rich.  Each child was taught to read and write.  And each was schooled in the ways of math.

The father worried his children would not be able to fend for themselves when he left this world.  So he taught them to hunt, forage and defend themselves.  Hunting only for food and never to hunt for more than what they needed.

The maiden loved her family and cared deeply for them. She was not brave, nor was she confident. She was shy in the extreme and hid from all but those she knew.  The maiden enjoyed playing the harp and singing.  She enjoyed slipping into the forest at night to forage for food to share with her family and to run with her animal friends.

But one night, everything changed.  The maiden’s life was torn apart.”

I pause, memories overwhelming me.  I wonder if I can stand the pain of reliving this all over again. I sip water, then take a breath and continue. 

“The maiden stole out one night.  Taking her bow and arrows, her family needed meat.  She roamed through the forest gathering berries.  Her hunt for meat was unsuccesful.

In the early hours of dawn she wandered home.  Stopping often to greet her forest friends.

When she neared her home she sensed something wrong.  The forest was strangely warm.  The smell of smoke filled the air.  The sound of flames crackling came from her village.

She ran, dreading the worst.  The things she had gathered spilling from her arms but she paid no heed.

The maiden skidded to a halt at the edge of the forest.  Her village was engulfed in flames.

Hidden behind a bush she watched as her village burned to the ground.  There was nothing she could do.

Unable to watch any longer she ran into the forest.  Faster and farther than she ever had.

When she could run no longer she collapsed on the ground and cried. She sobbed for hours until her tears ran dry.

Red eyed and exhausted she roamed through the forest.  For weeks she stayed there.  Eating the plants she gathered.  She had her bow and arrows but she couldn’t build a fire to cook.  Fear filled her when she saw flames.

A year later she changed.  Hardened.  She resolved to let nothing like what she had experienced happen to anyone else.  She traded herbs she gathered for a knife, a cloak, a tunic and pants.

She left the forest and traveled the lands.  Helping who she could. Fighting  fires, robbers, thiefs, raiders.  There was nothing she wouldn’t do.

She locked her feelings away.  Refused to dwell on memories.  Her heart longed for someone to care for.  But she never let herself feel for others.  The maiden would help others and move on.  Never staying in one place longer than she had too.

She was a maiden no longer.  A young woman now.  And an unusual one too.

Her travels carried her to a small tavern.  Where she sat next to a girl who was different.  A girl who was her kindred spirit.” 

I end.  It was hard telling my memories.  But I feel strangely relieved. 

I turn to the girl and wait for her to continue the story.  

"Are you alright?"

I look up to see a warrior woman approaching me, concern written across her face. I worry for a second that she's recognized me, but then relax. Her eyes are flickering, like she's trying to hide something. Usually, those who have something to hide tend not to focus on uncovering the secrets of others.

My history is littered with secrets.

I straighten, rearranging my features so that they no longer betray my thoughts, and smile. "Thank you for your concern, but I'm quite alright," I lie, hoping my accent doesn't show too much. "I've just had a long day of travelling and am glad to be taking a rest."

The woman doesn't seem completely convinced. Though I am uneasy surrounded by so many unknown potential variables, it's nice to finally talk to someone after so long. Even years ago, before everything went wrong and I went on the run, I was a prince from the neighboring land, and so often restricted from speaking to others. Though my mannerisms have adapted to those of the common folk in my time since being outlawed and later exiled, I still have much to learn about this new, foreign country, whose language I am passable in at best.

Watching her formulate another question, and deciding that the best defense would be a good offense, I turn the tables on the woman. "But you, what's your story? You seem familiar with this place, but also like there's something you don't want anyone to know."

Around me, the night progresses, and people fall deeper into conversation. 

I listen quietly as Leah tells her story. It's a sad one, but I can relate. I am silent for a minute, staring at the ice in my glass, which reflects the dancing tongues of flame in the fireplace. I look up, and begin, forcing myself to remember everything.

"Once there was a girl. She had parents, a home, and many good friends. When war came to her village, her parents were forced to flee with her. Every night, the girl's mother would tell her to be brave, that everything would be all right. The girl believed her.

"When they had traveled for months, they came to a village. It was clear the war had been there also. People were screaming, and the whole world was ablaze with fire. The girl cried as she saw it, knowing that at this very moment, her village was probably just as destroyed.

"Her parents gently pulled her away from the inferno, and told her to wait for them. The fire was dying down, and the screams and cries for help were lessening. The girl thought she could still hear the cries of a child, younger than herself. She knew her mother could hear them too.

"'Wait here,' the child was told. As her parents ran into the burning village, she sobbed in horror, fear, and sadness. 'Run!' she heard a voice call, and it sounded like her father's. Another, older, child came running out of the fire, feet pounding the scorched road. The girl stood up, calling to him, choking back tears.

"Eventually my mother came out, and we went on our way. But one of our party was gone, replaced with a boy. The girl wasn't kind to the boy. She was small and resentful. When they came to another village, untouched by war, the three of them stayed. 

"Gradually, the girl warmed up to the boy. She grew older, wiser, and realized he wasn't to blame. A few years later, her mother fell ill. And died. The girl was sad, but she still clung to a piece of hope, the one that always was with her, never letting her be alone in the wide and wild world.

"And that piece of hope was the boy. But eventually, he decided he was old enough. 'For what?' the girl would ask. But he just shook his head sadly, hugged her and bid her goodbye. He said he'd see her again, but he never did. 

"So, after waiting a year, the girl set out, back to the wartorn village she was originally a part of. When she got there, the war was gone, and the village was rebuilding. In the spot where her home used to be, a tavern had already been erected.

"And one day, a kindred spirit walked into that tavern and sat down next to the girl," I finish.

I watch and listen to the girls, the kindred spirits, tell their stories. A tear rolls down my cheek yet I hope no one notices. I stare into the fire remembering my past, wondering how I got to this point. I realize that the girls now have each other, but... I have nothing. No one to hold me when I need it. No one to talk with me, cry with me, laugh with me. I know that the tavern is no place for crying but I can't control it. My dark purple hair gets soaked. I realize that no one notices so I turn to leave, but then I hear a voice.

Ophelia finishes her story.  It is a sad one.  Much like mine.

A purple haired woman catches my attention.  The woman caught Ophelia's attention too.  Because she gestures for me to wait and walks over to the woman.  I follow her.

"Hey," Ophelia says to the woman.  "Wait."  The purple haired woman turns around.  Her face and hair is wet with tears.  When she first entered she was strong.  But she also has a soft heart.  She is lonely, and sad.  She needs someone to be her friend.  There are more than just two kindred spirits here I realize.

Ophelia smiles kindly.  "Join us?" she says, "I know you've been listening."

"Warrior.  The third kindred spirit.  How does her story go?" I ask.

Ophelia introduces us and the warrior woman smiles through her tears.

I watch the tavern carefully. Many people come in and out, a knight, a shady figure and a very handsome man. The man keeps his head down and orders a drink. He then seems to change his mind and order a cofee. I walk over to him, grabbing the coffe from behind the counter.

"One cofee, for the strange fellow," I hand him the drink.

"Thank you,"  He talks in a strange sort of voice. It might be an accent but I'm not one to judge, "Wait-"

"No, I didn't take your order. But you intrigue me. Where are you from?" I respond, sitting down next to him. There is a smile plastered on my face, a fake one for sure but he doesn't know that. I flip the coin. 

~~~~~~~~~~

I feel like I should mention the Thief's apearence. He is 5'7", has dirty blond hair, almost black eyes, a scar running over his left eye which he is blinded in, he is wearing brown boots, a black pocketed cloak, black leggings, gloves, and a sword and scabbard on his hip. In the pockets of his cloack are weapons, money and gems.