Sorry it didn't wok before, I hope it works this time.
Chapter one- The Daughter of Tel Aviv
Only two darkened shadows crept down the unlit Tel Aviv streets, the city had been plunged into darkness, the clutches of winter gripping the city in a fierce embrace. Tzvi watched his sister stop suddenly, listening to something. He paused, hearing nothing but the distant traffic, he carried on walking.
‘Lo!’ she cried furiously, causing him to freeze and once again follow her suit.
‘Lama?’ he muttered angrily, eyeing her.
‘The motorway’s back that way, Tzvi.’ She said, pointing eastwards.
‘Mazal tov.’ He whispered sarcastically under his breath, more for his own satisfaction.
Liat scowled at him before moving off in the direction she had pointed out, her older brother close behind.
It didn’t take long for them to find the motorway; they crawled through the think undergrowth blocking their way and stumbled onto the embankment. Sighing at the beautiful city stretched out before her, Liat couldn’t understand why the Americans saw nothing but conflict in their country...there was so much more.
The skyscrapers grazed the sky with their tips and shone like lost stars on a forgotten horizon. Liat watched the passing cars with pride; this was her home, her country and her people. Perhaps the Americans couldn’t see it...she guessed, unfortunetly for them, that they were blinded by the war in the middle-east.
Tzvi was already making his way to the footbridge when Liat’s train of thoughts ran dry; she absentmindedly followed him, homeward bound.
Liegh felt her younger childhood memories come flooding back, how long ago had it been? 5 years? She knew it had been, she’d been counting the very seconds that ticked past.
‘Are you listening to me?’ Zeev bellowed.
‘Yes Sir!’ She cried back, sucked back to the present from her thoughts.
‘Now, where on the body do you aim?’ he yelled, handing her a knife.
‘The heart or head!’ she shouted, adreneline pumping through her viens.
‘Good girl,’ he whispered, smiling kindly and tousling up her hair fondly, ‘the two H’s, you’ve been doing your homework.’
She grinned cheekily, ‘No, I’ve been practising.’
‘That’s a girl,’ her adoptive father’s face hardened, ‘but what have I told you about knives and streets?’
‘Don’t carry one in public,’ she muttered, averting her gaze to the target in front of her, ‘Or I’ll end up like my mother...’
His stern stare softened slightly, ‘Now, we wouldn’t want that would we?’
‘No Zeev.’ A single tear escaped her eye and crept down her pale cheek.
‘Don’t cry, it’s-’
She cut him off, finishing his sentance, ‘-a sign of weakness.’
He paused, watching her for a split second before he spoke, ‘Mossad did well with for the amount of time they had you.’
‘Ken, they did...’ she whispered her half-Hebrew half-English sentance.
There was silence before Zeev gestured to the target and motioned to the knife, ‘Well, let’s see what you’ve got.’
She drew her hand backwards, underarm as her mother had taught her and threw it forwards, landing on one knee as she released the knife. Zeev smiled, from thirteen feet away, she had hit it directly in the chest.