You could recognize them in any crowd.
No matter how amiable they seemed,
there was something behind their eyes
that waited and watched.
Their faces were lean,
the flesh tight to the bone.
Theirs was the inner stillness of
energy tightly leashed.
Meant for battle,
shaped and defined by it,
they lived in a state of readiness that
gleamed from the caverns of their eyes.
Taut, intense men,
protectors and predators.
The Warriors
From Bard, by Morgan Llyweln

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