Tightrope Walker

'The clouds were complaining, and as they threw down their protests in sheets, the wind joined in the dispute and pushed thin walls of water all about the place with no regard for anything else. The buildings filed high along the sides of the streets, hulking blocks of cold stone watching on like mourners in a funeral procession. More people appeared in the streets, children chiefly the ones who rushed out of their homes the quickest, each straining to catch a glimpse of the infamous Tightrope Walker. The adults were there to wish the soldiers well, some throwing singular flowers into the marching men's path, their soles riding on soft petals, the most welcoming ground they would set foot on for weeks, some ever.Hetta carried on at their point, no flowers laid down at her feet, the mothers and daughters resolutely waiting until she had passed them by before heaving their offerings onto the road. Hetta was known but not loved. She was feared. Now and again a smile would greet her, once again children the most common proprietors of these slight gestures. They were still too young to grow undue suspicion and fear into their hearts and allow them to fester like red weed. For now their widened eyes were still filled with wonder and awe at this mysterious creature passing their doorstep. Most of the adults had made their decision long ago, whether through fear or mistrust. But Hetta did not know any of these people. She didn't know families or their names. She had done nothing to earn such a veil of mixed thoughts to be cast over her. There was nothing but to be herself. And be herself she must.Hetta was a Tightrope Walker.'Hetta is a Tightrope Walker. A leader of armies. She has been one all her life. But Hetta has just turned thirteen, and there has never been a thirteen year old Tightrope Walker. Ever. Is she too old to do her duty? Is she too old to walk upon the field of battle and survive?Whether through magic or luck or just correct tailoring, Hetta had never been harmed upon the battlefield. And that was kind of the point. No one knew how or why Hetta was a Tightrope Walker, they just knew that she was one. She didn't even fully understand herself how it was she did what she did.But as Hetta strikes out to march into battle once more, something is not right. This time doesn't feel like all the others, and an eerie foreboding takes seed in her heart as Hetta leads The General and her men to war.