Six-Legged Prestige and Tradition

A black shape dashed through the forest of tall grasses that towered high above, creating a canopy that blocked out the moonlight. The shape moved again and again in short zig-zagging bursts.

Wind caught some of the blades of grass and parted them allowing a pale ray of light to illuminate the figure like a spotlight. If anyone had seen her they would have seen a caterpillar swathed in black clothes from top to bottom, armed with a matched pair of swords. They might have gasped at seeing one of the five legends in their midst but no one saw her. She was a ghost.

Using one of the routes that led to the servants entrance of the palace, rather than the main gate, the Caterpillar-Ninja was only exposed to some of the injustices and indiscretions of the Green Sultan. Slave fireflies were tethered to poles and forced to give off light in exchange for their lives and the lives of their families. Others were… not as lucky. She steeled herself. This wasn’t why she was here.

She was here to start a war.

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