Quenira Mornath

Quenira Mornath grinds chalky stone into a paste and rubs it over her gray skin, then snaps her bald head toward any sound like a snared animal. Dark symmetrical tattoo-marks crawl with dried salt around her shoulders and down her arms, ink she re-draws after fights. At her belt: a hand-axe with a notch for each promise broken, and a strip of cloth that smells of river-mud—her “no one drowns” vow. When she rages, she counts breaths out loud.