Among the snow-capped peaks that shroud the cliffs, there grow people whose blood runs hot as magma and whose will knows no equal. Constant skirmishes and the struggle for survival—such was the school that forged Thórunn into a true warrior.

For ten years now, not a single new scar has appeared on her body. No blade, no clawed paw of a lynx has touched her skin. Her mastery has become absolute...

All she has is one, old scar. A deep gash across her abdomen, left by a long-gone enemy. By one who managed to wound her, but failed to kill her; by one she could never catch to exact her vengeance.

For a warrior, a scar is usually an honor. But this scar brings her no glory—it only burns with the memory of defeat.