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One day, Alva Tyrnsdottir would be taught to fight by her father. One day, she'll be scarred and hardened with one foot already in the Hall of the Gods. One day, she'll look back and remember this moment and know it was the beginning. It all started a snowy night when she pried her father's axe loose from the painted target on the wind-bent tree. When she tested its weight and found it good. When she threw it, end over end, and struck true.
