Vixen regarded her hair impassively. Though it had taken her ten years to grow, the shorn locks merely represented another stage in her career advancement. To be accepted into the legendary Shadowblade school was an honour she had been seeking since she’d watched her father be assassinated at seven years old.
She bent her head, relaxing into the pain as the novice tattoo was etched into her skull. It would be added to with each successive rank she attained over the coming years until she died or graduated.
The acrid taste of her father’s blood still lingered on her tongue.
© Rachel Green 2007