Generic

Aztec night shines down upon Huntress 
to burnish the keen edge of her blade. 
The elders command that she confess 
about whose image she was made. 
They cordon off the place of duel 
a spiked and encircling line. 
They must find her a pure fool 
to fight within their time. 
The Huntress' gauntlet tight upon her sword 
tedious moments pass. 
She does not feel endangered by the swarming horde 
after she spills their blood on the moonlit grass. 
The Huntress feels fortunate for this little test 
and the chance to make enemy fall. 
It just proves that she is the best, 
the best of them all.