![[Wen.png]] Wen never needed words. Words could lie. Words could twist. Words could make promises that people never kept. But a punch? A punch told the truth. A punch said, “Get out of my way.” A punch said, “I don’t care how big you are.” A punch said, “If you take from me or my own, I’ll break your goddamned teeth.” And Wen? She liked telling the truth. She didn’t start out an orphan. There was a time, a long time ago, when she had a home. A father who worked the forges. A mother who brewed the best ale in the district. She doesn’t remember much of them. Just the warmth of the fire, the weight of a hammer too big for her hands, the smell of iron and sweat and laughter. But then the war came. And suddenly, there was no home. No mother. No father. Just ashes. She learned fast. Other kids ran. Other kids hid, begged, cried. Wen hit first. She fought for food, for a place to sleep, for the right to exist in streets that had already swallowed so many like her. And Pirate saw her. He saw the way she never backed down. The way she stood her ground even when she was the smallest damn thing in the alley. “You’re with us now,” he said, grinning. Wen didn’t smile. She just crossed her arms and punched his shoulder. Pirate laughed. And that was that. Wen doesn’t like a lot of people. She tolerates them. She fights beside them. But liking? That’s different. But Ellette? Ellette is fire and fury, confidence and defiance, something Wen had never seen in anyone before. She speaks her mind, stands her ground, and doesn’t take anyone’s nonsense, not even Wen’s. And Wen likes that. She won’t say it, of course. But if anyone ever tried to lay a hand on Ellette? They’d learn real fast that Wen’s fists talk louder than any threat. Sordia Vignti found her before she could vanish for good. She didn’t trust them. They talked too much. Asked too many questions. But they didn’t try to stop her when she hit things. Didn’t tell her to be softer, quieter, gentler. And when Big Guy put a training dummy in front of her and said, “See what you can do,” she punched it so hard it cracked. He just nodded. And for the first time in her life, someone looked at her and didn’t expect her to be anything but who she was. So she stayed. She still doesn’t talk much. She still likes hitting things more than she likes people. But now, when she throws a punch, it’s for something bigger than just survival. And that? That feels right.