It was a day of knees. Everyday was a day of knees, but today there were many more knees than usual. Knees covered in thick robes, in faded black leather, in loose cloth. She touched them all, each with their scratch, itch, and smooth. One set of knees had tiny bones stacked one on top another like a ladder, and when she looked up she saw that the ladder disappeared under a heavy jacket into darkness. She touched one of the bones and tugged at it cautiously, glancing up at her nomi, waiting for a raised eyebrow or a sharp glance, but her mother was lost in the cloud of conversation above. The girl ran her hands down the line of bones. She tapped on each one, up then down. Then she tapped harder. Sometimes bones make music, but these ones didn't. When she was done tapping, she began to pull again, concentrating all her effort. When she suddenly fell backwards, thumping onto her rear, the cloud above her silenced.

"Lexa!" she heard her nomi say sharply. Lexa looked up and saw that the bone dangled from one side, held to the pants by a bit of thread. She smiled and glanced at her mother who continued to scold her, but Lexa could see the grin hiding in her eyes. But then air between them was suddenly heavy and slow, and a pang sluiced though Lexa's chest, catching her breath. She looked back at her mother, and knew those eyes hid something sad, too. Her nomi held her gaze, and the little girl cocked her head, confused.

"It's okay," a deep voice broke through the thickness from further up. A tall man in the scratchy robe looked down at Lexa and then over at the man in the bone pants. "Are you alright, Tux?" Tux was even taller, pale with a huge face with lines of scars down one cheek. He looked down at the girl and smiled in a way that made Lexa step back and squint. "Easy fix," he said in a voice that sounded like nails were dropped in his throat. The man in the robe kneeled down and faced Lexa. He smelled to her of spices. Not like sweat and leather. Not like her nomi. Not like a warrior.

"Hello, little natblida," he said softly. Lexa tilted her head sideways and looked intently at the man. He had no hair on his head, and there were pictures drawn in circles all around his bare skin like a cap. She reached up to touch them, but she was too short. The man laughed, and his laugh felt warm to her. Something in her chest loosened at the sound of it. He bent his head down and let her touch the tattoos. "The story of the commanders, little natblida," he explained. "Of our people."

Lexa ran her hand over the pictures, expecting to feel the lines, but it was all just skin. She looked at his eyes. Deep green fading into gray around the pupils. "What's your name?" she asked. She saw the crowd of people all look at each other, like they expected her to sound different.

"I am called Titus," he said, still smiling, but serious. "I am the Fleimkepa." She glanced up at her nomi, who slowly nodded her head, the sadness still heavy in her eyes. Why is she so sad? Then she looked at the many other faces above her. Some wearing black and bones and metal. Warriors. Others in the more common spun wool, like she wore. A few others standing silently against the wall in robes like the man with the tattoo cap. They had hoods drawn over their faces, but when Lexa looked at them, she felt the pressure in her chest again. They're sad, too. When she looked at the others, though, the air around her seemed to open. One warrior tilted his head, his eyes glinting with anticipation. Another strong-looking woman, skin the color of fertile soil and drawings on her face, almost–almost–seemed to be smiling, like she knew the sun was about to come out from behind the clouds.

She felt the skin beneath her tunic grow stiff with goosebumps and heat, like everyone around her was holding their breath. Her chest swirled with confusion, so simply asked, "are you waiting for something?" The room broke open in grins. Titus, still on his knees, laughed that warm laugh again, and even her nomi smiled in her sad way.

"We've been waiting for you!" Titus told her.

"For me?" she asked. "But I'm so little."

Titus lightly placed his hand on her tiny shoulder. "For you, yes, little natblida."

"What's natblida?" she asked, and Titus looked swiftly, like an arrow loosed, at her mother, making Lexa shiver. Titus felt her shake, and he turned back to her. The warmth returned.

"Lexa, you are special. Did no one tell you that?"

She ran through her memories, tilting her head, until she could only think of one thing. "Nomi asks me to be careful, so I don't get hurt. And she doesn't like me to see when other people get hurt."

Titus nodded slowly. "Lexa, your blood is special. It's different than most people's blood. It gives you great gifts." He pulled out a small knife. "I'm going to poke you. It's going to hurt a bit, but I'm going to poke me, too, so you're not alone." He held out his hand, asking for hers. Lexa looked at her nomi who once again nodded slowly. She gave Titus her hand and closed her eyes. She felt the skin break on the palm of her hand and winced, but then it was done before she could cry out or be afraid. The knife was sharp, and the pain was quick. When she opened her eyes, she saw her own blood spill in a small string over the side of her hand. Everyone in the room gave each other glances. Lexa felt irritated, like they were keeping a secret from her.

"My turn now, okay?" Titus looked at her. Lexa nodded. He brought the tip of the knife first to his own hand, breaking the skin right in the meaty part of his had below his thumb. A small string of red blood spilled over the edge of his hand. She stepped back a few steps and sucked in her breath. "Your blood is different. It's red."

"Tux, come here," Titus said in a commanding voice. "Give me your hand." Tux held out his hand, and Titus swiftly punctured it. His blood flowed red. "Indra, give me your hand." The strong woman's blood flowed red. Then Titus looked at Lexa's mother, saying sternly, "Acco." She looked at Lexa with eyes full of apology, and she gave Titus her hand. He nicked her palm as he had the others, and Lexa watched as her mother bled red.

"Why is mine black?" she asked, looking at her nomi. The room thickened with silence until her mother drew in a deep breath and sighed, "Lexa…"

Titus looked down as he waited for her to say more, but the silence grew. Finally, he said, "Lexa, you have night blood. The blood of the Commanders. It's very special. Very rare. There aren't many like you."

Lexa looked at her mother. "Nomi, I don't understand."

Her mother gathered herself in a breath. "It means you could be the next Commander, child. With a lot of hard work." This didn't mean anything to Lexa, except that she imagined carrying buckets of water from the stream like she did every morning to prepare for the day, except she imagined many more buckets than usual. She didn't know what that had to do with being a Commander.

"It means you have other brothers and sisters like you," Titus continued. "You will build each other up, make each other stronger so that one of you can become a strong Commander." Lexa thought about this for a moment. She had had a little brother, Cameron, but he died before she knew him. Nomi sometimes sang to him when she didn't know Lexa could hear.

"They're like me?" she asked.

"Natblida, yes." Titus answered.

Her mother opened her mouth to say more, but then closed it slowly along with her eyes. Lexa looked away from her mother and around the room, her eyes jumping from person to person. She felt warm as she soaked in their faces. The sincere hope in in the eyes of Titus and the strong woman, the skepticism radiating from Tux, the strange sadness spreading from the robes on the edge of the room amplifying her nomi's. She felt them all tearing her into different directions, but she didn't understand. She wanted to put her hands over her ears and close her eyes, but she knew she'd still feel them. She always did. So instead she she played a game her nomi taught her when things became too much. She took a deep breath as she said to herself, "one is for the deimeika, that gives us light." As she exhaled slowly, she lifted her hands to the sky and stretched up to her tiptoes. She took another breath. "Two is for these ears that can hear the morning birds." She rested her hands gently against her ears. She took another deep breath. "Three is for nomi, Cam, and me." She wrapped her arms around herself, and felt her heart slow.

She opened her eyes. The warriors looked down at the ground, and the robes remained silent. Her mother was sobbing. She looked desperately at Titus whose face was soft and grave. He nodded his head, almost imperceptibly-it was his eyes that gave permission. Her mother bent down and opened her arms, and Lexa instinctively ran to her. She felt the roll of her mother's sobs, smelled the familiar sweat tinged with lavender and leather. The other parents in the village had always shook their head at her mother's warmth towards her child. This world is cold and hard, they had said, you love her by teaching her to endure. She would always nod politely, and she had even given Lexa a small sword and a little training though she was so small, but she never stopped hugging her.

When the rise and fall of her mother's chest gradually evened, she took Lexa gently by her shoulders. "You're going to leave with Titus," she said, looking Lexa straight in the eyes. Her eyes are brown, Lexa thought, but why are they so gray now? "He's going to take you to live in Polis to be with the other natblida. Lexa, I need you to be brave and strong."

Finally, Lexa understood. She stroked a braid hanging down from her mother's black hair. "You won't be coming with me." It wasn't a question. The strong and steady pounding in her chest told her that she would never see her mother again, that she wasn't meant to. She didn't know why she said, "You'll be safe here, nomi. Without me." But when she said it, she knew it was true. Her own sadness would not come for a long time.


"I thought about hiding her." Acco stood with Titus as they drank warm spiced milk. "No one knew. No one had to know."

"No parent wants a natblida, unless they want glory for themselves." Titus said evenly. "No parent wants to lose their child. I'd be more concerned if you weren't upset. Concerned for the child we were getting." Acco nodded, feeling the heaviness below her eyes from all the crying. "We say 'Get knocked down, get up again,' but sometimes I think we focus too much on the knocking down." Titus turned to face Acco. "Lexa already knows what it means to get up again. I can see it in her. You taught her."

Acco sighed. "She just learned. This world teaches her."

"No, Acco. This world teaches us to knock down, knock down, knock down. Harder, harder, harder." He spat the words. "Too many Commanders…" his voice trailed off. He paused, looked out at nothing, took a slow sip.

"She's so young."Acco looked down at the cup in her hands. "Such a small child."

"You were right to send for us. You know the punishment if we found her."

Acco nodded slowly. "It seemed worth the risk. For awhile. Especially after Cameron…"

"Was he a natblida?" he asked gently.

Acco shook her head, still looking down at her hands. "I don't know where Lexa got it. Maybe somewhere in the nontu's blood. He was just a donor, so I didn't really know him. Left when the job was done."

"We don't really understand it, the blood," Titus said. "It doesn't get passed down like sharp noses or bad hearts. It just comes out of nowhere. I wonder how many we miss."

"Many, I hope." Acco gave Titus a hollow smile.

"Why did you send for me?" Titus asked, a sharp line running down his forehead.

"I don't know. I'm Trikru. I know the stories of The Flame. My noni taught me about duty." She looked up at him. "He wasn't just a donor. He was always around. He was a healer, you know?"

Titus shook his head. He wouldn't have heard of a small village healer.

"Lexa reminds me of him. Every day."

Titus took a deep breath and looked out into the trees. The dusk sky shone golden orange through their branches. He knew better than to ever apologize. It was his duty to find and build up natblida, and it was sacred. But it was hard, and he wished through all these years that he had found something to say to people like Acco. Something that acknowledged how much they were losing. His duty was sacred, yes, and he told them theirs was, too, but his did not require such sacrifice.


Lexa had always preferred trees to people. They were quiet. They hid all sorts of surprises like bugs that glowed bright blue or mice families or baby birds. They let her hide. There was a peace to trees that gave her peace. When nomi was training and the other children played games that were too loud or too rough, she turned to the trees. They were everywhere. Her village was built under a canopy of oaks and beeches. She knew that cooler weather was on its way when they she heard the ringing of nuts falling on their metal roof. She could smell the brilliant green of newborn leaves in the spring. She could feel their roots beneath her feet, and they steadied her somehow, pulled her to the earth. Even when she climbed, she felt anchored, sure-footed.

Titus noticed her looking up into the leaves as they rode away from her village. Like she was saying goodbye. Such a quiet child. Lexa seemed to speak from her eyes more often than with her words. When she parted with her mother, she looked at her for a long time before wandering slowly into a long hug. Lexa dug her face into her nomi's neck and touched her hair, like she didn't want to forget the smell, the texture. It was only when she closed her eyes, though, that Titus recognized a spark of grief. Acco didn't cry, was out of tears perhaps, for her last yongon who would not come home. It wouldn't be home anymore, even if she did come back.

As they rode, Lexa only felt a low, slow burning in her core. The hope and anticipation she saw in the warriors' eyes, her nomi's sadness that finally turned to ash, the tall man Titus with his confusing warmth. She felt it all knotted and burning underneath her ribs. So she looked at the trees. At least they would always be everywhere, taking nothing from her.


I am so grateful that you took time to read my story! Please follow/fav if you like what you read, and leave a comment with your thoughts! I'm open to all sorts of feedback.

Trigedasleng in italics. Translations can be found at trigedasleng dot info.