So, she found herself wandering, trying
to find and keep to her new path. But that morning in the clearing
she had come to the conclusion that she just wasn’t strong
enough; not anymore. The weight of her deeds had been heavy on her
heart and she couldn’t shake the darkness that filled her
soul.

So, in a moment of despair, she simply
gave up. She buried her weapons and her armor, prepared to sit and
wait for whatever would come next. How could she have known that
her despair would be interrupted by the sudden appearance of a
group of slavers herding up their latest victims?

When Xena witnessed one of them step
forward, offering herself to save her family and the other
villagers, she had felt something rekindled inside her that
she’d thought dead and buried. A desire to fight, a wave of
anger so intense it made her soul burn with barely suppressed rage.
So she had stepped forward, acting on it, using it to save the
villagers and begin the exorcism of the demons of her
past.

Afterwards, with the anger gone and
faced with grateful and yet fearful villagers, she wondered if it
had ever really truly been as she’d thought. Or if it had
simply been a moment of weakness on her part. A simple lack of
control brought on by a resurgence of the darkness in her soul. She
simply didn’t know.

But whatever it had been, whatever had
caused her own despair and her reaction to the slavers, she knew
one thing. On that morning, she’d been prepared and expecting
to die. In many ways she might even have welcomed it.

Then a light had appeared in the
darkness of her soul and given her a new purpose, a new reason to
fight. She had no idea where that light had come from or what had
brought it. But it was something she was not willing to give up
again.

And with it had come a newfound friend,
unexpected, unwelcome but no less appreciated. So she would hold
onto that new light, protecting it with her very life in necessary
and she would protect her new friend as well.

No matter that she talked too much,
asked too many questions and snored; no matter that she was afraid
of Argo and would only ride when absolutely necessary; no matter
that Xena well knew there would be times when she would probably
feel the urge to strangle the young girl herself. She would see
that Gabrielle stayed safe.

She knew deep down that this was more
than a simple need to protect an innocent. Otherwise, why had she
let the young woman talk her into letting her come with her? Why
hadn’t she fought harder or simply said no? She should have
simply dragged the bard hopeful back to her backwater village and
placed her into her parents’ hands. But she hadn’t.
Why?

Xena couldn’t explain it and she
didn’t even want to try. If there were larger forces at work
here she was just going to ignore them. No one, not man or woman,
not the Gods, not even she the fates themselves controlled her
life. She would see to that.

And if Gabrielle had decided to spend
her time following after a soul-blackened ex-warlord, who was she
to argue. It was her choice after all. Besides the girl could cook.
The gods knew she was severely lacking in that regard. So far she
was lucky she hadn’t poisoned herself yet with her own
attempts.

Chuckling softly to herself, she turned
on her side, her back to the fire and closed her eyes. A moment
later she slipped into the realm of Morpheous, the strange smile
still on her face.

The End