"You're eight, Jalaen. You need to learn how to use a weapon." Qymaen said to his stubborn daughter.

Jalaen had only grown to look more like her mother. "Father, but I don't know which one I'll be good at." She kicked a rock with her foot.

"When I was your age," Qymaen snarled, "I had forty Huk kills to my credit."

"There's probably only forty Huks left." Jalaen pouted.

"Well, then, better to start now!" Qymaen exclaimed. He turned and walked out of their home.

Ronderu was gone for the day, but Qymaen didn't mind. He loved the opportunity to choose the weapon for his daughter. "Father," Jalaen began, "I don't know which weapon to choose though. Everyone says that I should pick Lig swords and be like Mother, but then, I think that in mind, I'm more like you."

"That's probably true." Qymaen said. "Can I assist you in your decision?"

"Sure. I need all the help I can get." Jalaen answered.

"When you were very young, your favorite words to say were 'Czerka' and 'rifle'. Maybe that should guide you in your choice."

"Can I borrow that?" Jalaen said, and pointed to the rifle.

"Why?" Qymaen asked, but Jalaen had already snatched it.

A rat had caught her eye, and with great aim, she managed to hit and kill it with only one shot. "Czerka Outland Rifle it is." She said with a satisfied grin, and gave the gun back to Qymaen.

"All right. Now, I want you to go home and clean up, as you are woman of the house for a day." Qymaen said. "I'll go out and pick out a rifle for you."

"Fine!" Jalaen said, and ran to get started.

000

Ronderu came in, a while later. She saw Jalaen working, oddly. She had a smug look on her face. "What are you doing, Jal?" She said tiredly.

"I'm cleaning the house." She answered proudly. "Father said I could."

"Then why do you look so pleased?" Ronderu asked.

"Father has gone to get me a rifle."

Ronderu smiled. "I could see you with a lig sword in one hand, and a rifle slung over your shoulders." She scanned her daughter. "We've got to do something with your hair."

Jalaen's smile instantly faded. "I like my hair this way." She said.

"And what way is that?" Ronderu asked quizzically. "The bird nest look?"

"Fine." Jalaen said angrily. "I want it like your hair, though."

Ronderu used a Shoni-tooth comb to brush through her daughter's hair. "Your hair is beautiful." She murmured.

Jalaen rolled her eyes. Then her face lightened up. "Father's back with my rifle!" She exclaimed.

Qymaen returned with a slightly smaller model of his own rifle. "Here's your first weapon, Jalaen. Use it well."

Jalaen beamed. It was truly a beautiful weapon. "Thank you, Father." She said.

Qymaen looked her over. "Jalaen… is that a flower in your hair?"