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Cherry blossoms in long strands

The Child Who Would Free the Princess was no longer a child. Twice seven winters had passed since she had found the half-medallion, seasons spent in learning to listen, to see, to feel, to move within the air and on the earth, over water and encompassing flame, understanding wood and steel and stone. Art and ardor were teachers and tools, the stillness of winter and the song of spring. Now spring was returned with cherry blossoms, and she knew herself come to womanhood, serene in her strength, as ready as love and will could make her. Let the challenge come.