Why was she not sad that her daughter had left for Yaeli? Why was she not crying, or searching for her, or setting out to drag her bodily back to Chibale? People kept asking Kaalnia this, as if this was what a mother was supposed to do. As if she had failed to protect her child from the terrible fate of exile. As if her obligation to her daughter meant crossing desert and ocean and strange and dangerous lands to find her. Some dared to say that her unwillingness to do so meant that she had not deserved to be granted a daughter by Aisha, that she was a lazy coward like she had always been. Kaalnia just smiled and laughed.

They did not understand, and she could not fault them that. She would do anything for her daughter, forget desert and danger, she would walk through fire and through pits full of monsters and thorns if Kiki needed her to. But Kaalnia also had disappeared in an avalanche, had been held captive by bandits, had been injured and scarred and nursed back to health, and had been assumed dead. What would she have wanted her daughter to do about it? Curl up in a little ball and cry? Become a perfect obedient little warrior? Of course not! What her daughter had decided to do, in response to that, had been to take action and follow her heart. Even though Kaalnia disagreed with where she had decided to go, who she had decided to go to, and how her daughter felt about Kaa's views on it, Kaalnia was still proud.

If that was where she went, if that was what made her happy, then so be it. She was happy. That was what any mother wanted for her daughter – happiness. The other people, the sisters who chided her, they did not understand - Exile was not the worst fate that could happen to her daughter. That was something else entirely.

Kaalnia had a long memory, and had led, thus far, an interesting life. War and death and pain stuck like burrs in her mind, unshakable and unforgettable. Nor did she want to. They were what had forged her, after all, sprouted her up from the shallow Alkidike kid of before into something beyond her wildest dreams: she was indefatigable, a warrior full of will and joy and energy. That was something she had never thought she could be on that fateful day of the tournament, when the iceling had nearly killed her.

They had thought her a coward, a weak link in the tribe. She had cracked under the force of battle, and had been abandoned to her fate. She had had friends, yes. Plenty of them. They had supported her and they had worried over her. But even they wondered if she would survive the nightmares that plagued her, or if she would walk into the hungry jungle and die.

Fighting had once been fun, like a dance with blades. It had been a game, just a trial between Sisters. All in fun. That day, though, as her blood stained the arena's sand, and as the iceling had stabbed her with murder gleaming in his feral eyes, she had seen what fighting truly was. Fighting was the act of harming another. She knew it should not be taken lightly.

That tournament had started her on the long and winding road that had brought her here, to who she was now. Kaalnia had been broken, repaired, and broken again by war, so why was it that she felt so complete now? Had it been raising Kiunyki that had done it? Had the bandits, in their cruelty, somehow fixed her instead of breaking her? Had it been Votzhem's constant companionship and kindness that had done it? Had it been Pinpin, her Raoti? Or had she simply grown strong?

Kiunyki, in leaving Chibale, Andile, and Jahuar itself, had shown that same sort of strength. Instead of breaking, she had bent and adapted. She had traveled across Tendaji, following her heart. Her road was different, and Kaalnia respected that. She had done what she could to change Kiki's mind about the Extremists, but in the end, there was only one person who could change Kiki's mind – Kiki herself. If Kaalnia's will had not been enough to convince her, then Kiki would deal with the consequences of her actions and that was that. As long as Kiki was alive, well, and truly believed that this was what she wanted to do, Kaalnia would not stand in her way. She had no right to.

Consequences, both good and bad, were everything to Kaalnia. They were what made you into who you were. You made your decisions, and you dealt with what resulted. As long as you had no regrets, all was well. As a consequence of her decisions, Kaalnia was strong. She was happy. She appreciated life as it was lived, and, whatever new world-shaking event it threw her way, she knew she was ready for it. Kiki would just have to be ready, too.