A squirrel maid was wielding a deadly claymore at a beast; it
was another squirrel. He moved back and fourth with a cutlass; not
one blow touch him. Swinging the wonderful, long claymore, he
grabbed it and twisted it out the maid's paws. She fell,"I'm sorry.
. I-I should have-".
"What you should have done was use that shield of yours instead
of defending yourself with the blade! Zola,"he sighed as she looked
down to her unmoved shield in her other paw."When I asked you if
you wanted to become a warrior instead of getting married, I though
you can actually live up to the Jukkan Warrior's title."
"But I-,"Zola hesitated."I-I don't want to become a old
squirrel when I can live up to our title. Please;Chieftain Tanem,
father I beg of you!"