As she saw how the buildings thrust through the clouds and towered in the skies, what filled the mind of the Zalak girl, not yet Flametail Knight, was the loftiest red pine back home. And they hit her heart—a flash of longing, a flash of depression—as she recalled that final swathe of Pinus Sylvestris still standing, only to be razed in a sudden Catastrophe. Sona had never actually returned to that forest since. Perhaps that pine was lucky enough to survive the disaster? And maybe, some time next year, the pinecones that fell intact would find a completely new life in the ash-blanketed earth... just as she did. She had to live on, in the stead of her friends and family who lost their lives to Catastrophe. She had to plant roots and bud in the soil they named Kazimierz. Such notions kept her driven to the present day. But before she knew it, Sona was shaking her head free of them all. They skipped too many steps—they would only trap her in more regrettable circumstances. She couldn't go on like this. She had to learn to be optimistic. Shape up her act, and perhaps the merchants would give her an out, and employ this little Infected girl to do what handiwork she could. Soon after, she learned from newspapers and television that Infected, too, could be knights. She was going to find a way in. Still, she wanted to become one just so she could make a living. With no chivalric spirit of old turned life lesson, and no grand visions or hopes, Sona clenched her fist tight. But the next thing she knew, she was being forced to raise it against fellow Infected who deserved it just as little. Sona wasn't strong, but she was nimble. She stood out amongst the Infected for it, and was selected by the bankroller of an underground power and sent into the 'cleaning qualifiers.' No weapon in hand, danger surrounding her, and a single fist planted in her foe's face. And they toppled, and Sona won the right to survive another day—but she wasn't happy. She wasn't strong. Taking her opponent down in one blow... it could only be because they were starving, because the evening before, their backer 'tipped' a few knights some bonds to get into a brawl with them. Sona wasn't happy. She wasn't strong. Some fawned, telling her if she just dressed up a little, she'd be so cute, so lovely and sweet. Some gushed, telling her if she just went through some proper training, she'd be a terror of the racetrack. Until one voice told her: 'You've got a tail like a blazing fire.' It caught her off guard. There was nothing in particular beneath that statement, and it was no more than an ordinary spectator, reveling in the violence, who yelled it. But it was the first time Sona had ever choked with emotion after a match. Yes. She'd just realized it. She ought to be like a blazing fire.