Shleya pulled out her sword and flung it into a tree rage boiling through her. She always wanted an older brother. She never knew what he was like or even what his name was. "Who is your older brother?" She asked yanking her sword out of the tree and with a great deal of struggling to not slash something open, she stood there. Sometimes, on rare occasions, she would have dreams about her brother, giving her clues about what he looked like. But it was only flashes of his face that she managed to cling to.