In the outer foyer, Zoa was told to leave her bow and arrows. Coldly she eyed the guard, as if she were considering to refuse. ‘Well?’ asked the g...ard. ‘I’d rather not be unarmed while carrying this,’ said Zoa, tapping her glass-box. The guard turned his eyes to the box, with a quizzical look on his face. It seemed he had trouble finding a connection. ‘Are you any good with your sword?’ asked Zoa. ‘Of course,’ snarled the guard. ‘Good,’ said Zoa, took off her bow and quiver, and left them. He just didn’t understand. He never did. Almost every day this happened; him trying to talk about Mama and me saying it doesn’t matter anymore. She is gone, what am I suppose to do now? I feel that Daddy will never understand. I can’t do anything about her now. It’s been over a year already and he is still trying to talk to me about it. Why can’t he just let it go? I lay on my bed as it got darker and darker outside. My tears had my hair plastered to my face as I beat my pillows with my fists. More

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