Kendra
I had the dream again. It is the same dream over and over again. I do not know where I am, but it is a strange place, a place I do not know and have never been. I am fighting. Always I am fighting. There is a pretty girl there and she is fighting too. Then I feel something, a pain on my throat. It is burning, stinging, on fire. I feel something warm flow down my front and the room gets dark and cold. Then there is nothing.
I wake from my dream, every night the same dream. I wake in cold sweat and fear. I do not know what this means, but it is important. Ma grande mère always said that I was special, to pay attention to my dreams for they would tell me what I need to know and need to do. My dream tells me to find this place and there I will find my answers.
Kendra climbed out of bed and started her daily calesthenics routine. She refused to let herself dwell on the dream. It was the same dream she had every night, had had every night for nearly as long as she could remember. There were other dreams, but none of them were like this one. None of them made her feel as if she lived it... HAD lived it. None of them made her feel as if there was some gigantic piece missing out of a cosmic puzzle. But this one did.
After she exercised, she would study. Even though it had been years since she studied under her grandmother's watchful eye, she never gave up the practice. Her grandmother had been a sorcière, a shaman of her native people. She recognized a special power in young Kendra, and taught her to follow in her footsteps. Kendra learned that evil walked in many shapes and forms. She learned how to recognize them, learned what their strengths and weaknesses were, and learned the best way to dispose of them.
Still, Kendra couldn't help the feeling that something wasn't quite right, that something was not quite what it was supposed to be. She knew that her answers weren't here, but they were out there. Somewhere.