"The Champion of the Lion is among us, brothers."

They roared with drunken laughter. What weight such a title held was almost forgotten between heavy drinks out of wooden cups, bowls, or whatever was passed around. Bébhinn thought she saw a shoe, or two. She didn't think it was funny in the least bit, what they were laughing about. The young champion had a mother who was a war cat on the plains, and had a father whom had been a force beyond which words could comprehend. Though she'd never met either of them formally, it was hard to escape the rumors, myth, and legends they left behind. The mother more so than the father because the mother, Etain, was a Sylvan elf. Some said she ran like the wind blows. Others said she hit with the force of a ogre behind her.

( Was she here to test a legend or to make a fool of herself? )