Bramblepoint Darjeeling Express

"Does it really mean that I have learned all there is about life by the age of almost two and the rest of the time will be just dragging out my days until I die?" Dwin asked incredulously, because this future prospect seemed very bleak. Okay, her mom's side of family did not seem to have very long lives, if you take her aunt Wraen, who had finished her life at 5, as a reference. Or Ibis, who had been a cousin of sorts and had perished at the age of 3. But then there was her dad, who was nearing 9, which was just as an incomprehensibly far away age as 90 is to someone, who is 20 in human years. 

Her companion distracted her from this horrifying train of thought by asking another question. Future aspirations. "Yeah, well, I love stories, I have ideas, but I cannot tell one from the beginning to the end. I am not good at remembering facts or story-lines, but I am good at filling in with interesting details," she explained, but this was not exactly, what the stranger had asked her. "A warrior. I have a whole trench system around the old den site, where we lived as kids. But since Bronco died - he was the only one to know the trade - there is no one to train me," she said. "And to be honest - I am no longer sure that it is the path for me either. I mean - being a warrior means making a deal with the death," she said. "I think that this is the only trade out there that encompasses the very real possibility of you dying," she explained. 

"And I am not ready to die yet," even if her life was going to be long and boring. Better that than being dead, right?