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Little infiltrators.

‘Get to know them,’ one of Naqenni’s caretaker mothers, Kasama, had advised. ‘Learn their names, their strengths, and their weaknesses. One day, they will fight in battle behind you, and rush forward when you lead their onslaught.’

Above and beyond Kasama, too, all of Naqenni’s world had a great deal to say about she and her sisters, who and what they were or could or should or would one day be. Thus far, though, Naq was unimpressed with her younger kin. They were small. Smaller even than her. Underfoot. Irritated. Doted on, often, as she had been, and though she had indeed been in her time, she recognized no hypocrisy in disliking it when the attention turned to her youngers. They didn’t deserve it.

Not like she did.

So she ignored most of them.

Sometimes, it was easy enough, particularly if she made it out of camp and could dedicate hours to the shoreline, working herself through the surf or beating her feet in hard runs along the wet sand. Those hours she enjoyed. Unfortunately, however, there were some things better done within the boundaries of the camp, and in those instances, she became open to interruption. It felt as though their numbers multiplied every day.

“Hi!”

One antennae twitching, Naqenni ignored the small voice initially, tucking one foot underneath her on her boulder perch and continuing the work of chipping away at a piece of stone. It was supposed to be an arrowhead in the making. If she were going to wield a bow as her primary weapon, Kasama had said she would need to learn to make arrows herself, and had begun to show her how. It was…

She squinted at the malformed piece of chipped rock.

…a work in progress.

She turned her dissatisfied glower on her company, which had somehow managed not to get the drift yet. “Naqenni,” she said. “You should know my name. It’s rude not to, if you’re going to interrupt me. I’m busy.”

“I am going to use a bow,” Naqenni said. “My bow. I’ll get it soon, and I’ll be able to hunt, and…” She spared the girl a squint. What had she said her name was? Akadi? Akadma. Something similar to that. “It will be a long time before you’re allowed a weapon. You probably can’t even hold one properly yet. Why do you think you already know what you want to use when you haven’t gotten to practice with them all yet?”

Honorable.

Naqenni cut short a scoff of a noise. Of all her options, she had never truly considered a spear herself. Though she had trained with one, minimally, for practice, it never felt right with her. Too long and awkward, like all her too-quickly-growing limbs that felt the need to bump into things they oughtn’t. Gangly and unwieldy. Swords had been little better, but not up to her taste for a different set of reasons. Close combat simply didn’t suit her.

But there was nothing wrong with armed foot soldiers with a little more reach. So, she tipped her head to eye the younger girl. “Are you the strongest your age yet?” she asked. “In your training, what is it you’re worst at?”

Naqenni returned to ‘work’ on her arrows as the younger girl worked her way through her answer, clacking the carving stone back to the material and frowning as she did. She wondered how long it took normally before such things looked the way they ought to. When her littler sister finished, Naq spoke without glancing her way, attention still on the stone.

“That’s what you ought to be practicing, then,” she said. “Right now and always until it’s what you’re best at, and then you work again at whatever has become your worst. But if you’re not good with your feet, and you aren’t good with your arms to thrust, what are you good at at all? Have you practiced today? Or are you just dancing about camp talking to people who are doing things? Did you want help with something?”

The instant the last question left her mouth, Naqenni regretted it, but bit her tongue in any case. Even if the girl wanted her to do something, it certainly didn’t obligate her to. Perhaps she would grow bored soon and leave, in any case.

Cireit.

The girl’s pleader, Naqenni concluded. She knew the names of every alk in the tribe by now. Fourteen years of no one else to interact with would do that to a person. In her irritation, however, she’d not yet learned the names of each new squealing sister that the tribe was blessed with. Though her caretaker mother, of course, said that she ought. She grunted.

“It will. If you practice it and if you get stronger,” she said. “But it won’t otherwise. No one ever got stronger from talking about a thing.”

Her carving stone clacked and skittered messily on the arrowhead-to-be as her fingers froze and her gaze narrowed, shoulders stiffening. She had offered. By Elzira, she had offered, but she hadn’t meant to—or, even, it wasn’t really an offer was it? She’d only asked if the girl wanted it. That wasn’t an offer. She flicked her tongue over her teeth, redirecting her gaze with a cross puff.

“I asked if you wanted it. I didn’t say I would.” She rolled her narrow shoulders, glanced down to the mess of a thing in her hands — ruined — and pressed her lips tight before dropping it amongst her things and standing so as to glower down at the girl. “I could. Of course I could. But why should I?” Reaching, she gave a none-too-gentle prod to the other girl’s chest, challenging. “Why don’t you give me one good reason I should spend any time on you. Then we could practice. If I decide I feel like it.”

Naqenni narrowed her eyes.

It was an obvious ploy, of course, but unfortunately — even knowing what the child was getting at — that made it no less effective. She still bristled. Her antennae still twitched. And she still felt this swelling, puffing sense in her chest because she was not-

“No,” she snapped, reaching and giving a curt yank to the younger girl’s top to make sure she had her full attention. “I’m the oldest and the best.” With the words, she twisted, snagging a leg under and behind the girl quick enough and without warning so as to drop her onto the dirt a moment later. Then, she dusted her hands over her hips, eyeing her. “That’s lesson one in footwork,” she said, and — only because in the back of her mind, her mother Kasama’s voice cautioned her to build ‘bonds’ with her fellow younglings — she reached out, offering a hand back up.

Naqenni grunted, but withdrew her hand when it was refused, fingers bunching into a loose fist at her side, not so much angered as mildly curious. At least the girl had spirit—though she ought to learn better than to rebuke an elder. With a twitch of her antennae belaying her her mental response to the quip, she gave a stiff nod, and an unfriendly flash of teeth that might have been a smile, were the intent behind it different.

“Aye, that’s it. Trust no one’s legs, no one’s spear, no one’s hands—only your own, and even those will betray you if you let them.” She propped her weight back a moment, hands moving to her hips as she eyed the smaller girl assessingly. “What practice routines have you been taught so far? Not wasting my time on things you should know already.”