Yay! My Ny'Kle has come back! I have missed you! This chapter is dedicated to you today!

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I am shaken awake by my father.

"Get up. The horn has just sounded. Someone has called for lockdown."

My heart starts pounding. I get up off my mattress and begin to help father close the thick shutters and lock them. The doors are pulled shut.

"Wait, what about Mina and the little ones?" I ask with worry. I know Mina has three young daughters, and is heavily pregnant again.

"Kirth is home. He and Vahn came back the day before yesterday. And don't forget the oldest daughter is as good a fighter as you are."

"She is still only ten summers old."

"You of all people should know age doesn't matter."

I fall silent. He is right. By the time I was eight summers I could best warriors three times my age and four times my size. Mother taught me well.

I find a lot of things about me revolve around my mother.

We blow out all the candles so as not to draw attention. I feel my way to my room and pull my plasma pistol off my shelf and check its charge. I know I probably won't need it, but it makes me feel better.

I return to my father.

"Were mother's observations actually used?"

"What? Oh, yes. Thel and Rtas made extensive progress in the war just from what they learned from Andrea. You should have seen their faces when they realized that she learned faster than they did."

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For the last fortnight, Andrea has beaten me to the training grounds. By the time I climb up the cliff, still rubbing sleep from my eyes, she is covered in a sheen of sweat and has taken on several opponents.

Most of the warriors have come to respect her tenacity and fighting skill. She knows several of them by name. Kirth is one of her favorites. She likes to pounce on him and start roughhousing with him. He doesn't seem to mind.

I don't like him.

Today, however, when I crest the top of the cliff, Andrea is off to the side of the rings, checking the weapons rack. Rtas hasn't allowed her into the weapons fights…yet.

I make a note to myself to tell Andrea that I don't want her in the weapons fights. She gets herself hurt often enough just in the hand-to-hand combat that I can just imagine what would happen if she got her hands on a spear. She'd probably impale herself.

I am at her side when she selects two broken spear shafts that are about the same length. They are so big around she can barely get her hand around them.

"These will make perfect escrima sticks." She whispers to herself in the human language. She doesn't seem to notice me here.

"Andrea, what are you doing?" I ask.

She looks up at me, but her mind is elsewhere, so it appears she looks through me.

"I am ready for a rematch." She states, and I have no idea what she means.

She walks to Rtas while I try to decipher what she is saying.

"I would like to pick my opponent this morning." She says to Rtas.

Rtas looks down at her for a long moment before he inclines his head. She bows her own head to acknowledge his permission.

She walks around the ring of warriors, searching them for one in particular. The broken spear shafts twirl in her hands ominously.

She stops and looks up into the eyes of the opponent she has chosen, and my heart nearly stops.

He is the thug that nearly beat her unconscious her first day.

"If you will have weapons, then I will have weapons." He tells her, and my blood runs like ice in my veins.

She nods. "Agreed."

She walks to the center of the ring while he selects a spear of his liking from a different rack. The air has gone still, and people gather around the ring to see what would happen.

Simultaneously, Andrea and her opponent settle into their stances. They are still as stone for what seems an eternity. Then the ring explodes into movement.

Andrea and the warrior have closed the distance between them in less time than I can blink, and are striking and blocking rapidly and furiously.

I am stunned as they appear to dance before my very eyes. They flow like water together, both knowing what the other would do next as the air thrums with the ringing of metal on metal.

I have never seen Andrea like this. She's using every ounce of her agility to get into his defenses, and she's fast. I can barely see her move.

The warrior keeps up with her without any trouble, and I wonder why Andrea hasn't tried to use his blind spots. She's learned every warrior's blind spot in the eight moons that she's been here. So why hasn't she used his?

I watch carefully. Andrea's two sticks are a force to be reckoned with. While she bocks with one, she strikes with the other. But the warrior uses his spear in much the same way. He'll sweep it in long but tight arcs to attack, and slap the butt of it up with his hooves to defend.

Shock nearly puts me face first in the sand when I realize why Andrea's not bothering with his blind spots; he has his eyes closed.

In the time that Andrea has been here, she has watched him and learned him, and he has done the same. It is disconcerting to see how well they know one another without ever saying a word. I've known Andrea for eight moons now and she still baffles me.

Something red flashes and they both freeze, panting hard for breath. A drop of red blood drips off of the warriors spear. Andrea has a cut covering one side of her face. Starting at her nose, it crosses on her cheekbone and tapers out near her ear.

Blood oozes from the wound, but Andrea ignores it. Her eyes are alight with something.

She straightens out of her fighting stance at the same time the warrior does. They present their weapons to each other and bow their heads.

Andrea turns to walk out of the ring.

"Andrea."

The warrior calls to her, and uses her name. Her lips quirk a fraction and she turns to look over her shoulder at him.

"I am Vahn."

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"So that's where that scar came from. But couldn't she have had it removed?" I ask.

"She could have, but she refused. Said she'd worked too hard for that scar and she wasn't about to wipe it off."

"What did she value it for?"

Father chuckles in the darkness. "Your mother values respect. She wants everyone to know that she is just as good as anyone, and she does what it takes to get the respect she deserves. The story of how she and Vahn battled is a legend in this village. That scar is a symbol to any Sanghelli who see her. It marks her as one who earned the respect she has obtained."

I think on this.

"Who is Vahn? You've mentioned him before I think."

"He is Kirth's eldest brother."

"Huh."

I'm about to ask another question when I hear it.

I gesture to father and he cocks his head to listen as well.'

There it is again: the unmistakable sound of footsteps all around the house.

We are surrounded.