She'd been a girl when he'd come for her. Mother and father had given her up, had told her it was an honor. She never saw them again.
Each morning she woke at dawn and ran fifty miles before breakfast. She could perform all of the katas perfectly by the time she was twelve, although free-form fighting took her longer to master. She could cite, often word for word, the ancient tomes without referring back to the original documents. When she was sixteen, she killed her first demon.
Before Sunnydale, Kendra never stopped to think that her life was unusual.