“Marked by bravery or courage; having or showing fortitude”

Arete was not brave in the traditional sense.

She was slight in build, and her skin soft.

Her hands hadn’t seen a tough’s day work,

Nor did her body bear the scars of battle.

But she had wit, raw intelligence

And her father’s stubborn temper.

Her father said she was a dreamer,

A waste of space,

And a barren womb.

Arete cared not for her father’s harsh words,

For she was the first of her kind.

Fortitudinous in her words,

Knowing no bounds by the law of men,

She would seek out adventure,

Take the world head-on,

And make her father weep.