The Nokkoy girl had no name, so Viyal's mother called her Yunil. Viyal suspected that it was supposed to be her twin's name, the one she ate during the struggle for survival inside their mother's womb. Thus, she welcomed Yunil like the sister she never had. The two children were inseparable.

Viyal stayed with her at all times. One reason was that Yunil was too afraid to let anybody else touch her besides Viyal and her mother. Another was that Viyal feared somebody would think of eating her, specifically her father or her brothers. The two played until they were exhausted, bathed together, and slept in the same crib. For all intents and purposes, they were like twins.

Thus, two more months passed on the steppes, and the children grew considerably. Yunil tottered everywhere, and Viyal was usually not far behind. Her vocal cords developed enough to string a decent sentence together, although longer and more complex words were still difficult. On the other hand, Yunil only yipped or barked, trying to copy the sounds of words she heard. Viyal worried that Nokkoy could not speak at all, but she clearly understood and reacted to the people around her.

She learned her brothers, Noro and Saro, were younger than expected. They shot up like young teenagers but had only seen four more thawing seasons than her. Their species, the Mosyvvi, apparently had a completely different life cycle than humans. Her mother, Nayavi, gave birth to the twins when she was only twelve, but for her species, that was a normal age.

The same seemed to be the case for the Nokkoy. Yunil grew slightly faster than Viyal, who already reached the size of a human toddler despite being only four months old. Perhaps the inhabitants of the steppe all matured quickly to survive its dangers. And dangers could lurk over every hill.

Once, they were attacked by bandits while setting up camp. Three dozen riders came over a hill and fired arrows from the backs of their Shinoona. Viyal's father showed his mettle as the chief and rode out to face the enemies head-on. It was a short battle, and seven enemies lay dead before the rest fled.

"Remember this defeat at the hands of the Zakhira!" Amiro's bellowing voice carried over many hills, announcing his tribe's might across the steppe. Beside him rode Noro and Saro, practicing their battle roars after the victory. Viyal glanced at her mother and saw a disapproving frown.

Besides the occasional meeting with another tribe and run-ins with bandits, the steppe was a beautiful but lonely place. They steadily journeyed in the direction where the sun set until, one day, a snow-capped mountain range began to peek over the horizon. Judging by the ambient temperature, it was still the middle of summer, meaning those mountains were likely over three thousand meters tall.

A few days later, over a hundred riders appeared over the horizon behind them in the evening as the tribe set up camp. Viyal was surprised to find joyous faces all around instead of anxious ones. As the riders approached in a long column, she understood why.

At its head rode a man who looked almost exactly like Amiro. His red mane was slightly larger, and his musclebound arms were on full display as he wore a sleeveless padded vest. A woman who was the spitting image of Viyal's mother accompanied him, although her hair was worn in three rows of braids. They were the twins of her father and mother, Gavro and Zalavi.

Amiro rode out to meet them with several members of his entourage. When he approached his brother, he called out to him enthusiastically. They had not seen each other since before Viyal was born and had many stories to share. They got off their Shinoona and hugged.

"Brother, I bring news from the Sunrise Lowlands," announced Gavro.

"Come, rest, and have a drink. Only when you have wet your throat with wine shall you talk of serious matters," Amira took him by the wrist and pulled him along. Gavro glanced back at his wife with a wry smile. She shrugged and followed him as they walked back toward the tribe.

Viyal spotted someone among Gavro's entourage who stood out like no other. He was a man in a suit of pitch-black plate armor. A pointed crimson hood with a thick tassel at the tip was pulled deep into his face. Only a pale hooked nose peeked out from underneath, and a bushy gray full beard fell over his chest. A straight sword dangled from his belt, a weapon like no other she had seen on these steppes. Walking behind him was a quadrupedal horse-like animal in black plate barding. It had no head, and dark fog emanated from its neck instead, obscuring the view of what lay underneath.

As the other riders dispersed into the camp, reuniting with their families, he followed Amiro and Gavro as they approached where Viyal waited with Yunil and her mother. Nobody seemed to pay the black knight any attention, so she wondered if perhaps he was an apparition only she could see. Was he a god of death, coming to undo her second chance at life?

"Be not afraid, my child. That is Rowen," Nayavi noticed her daughter's fearful look and explained. "He is a mighty warrior from a faraway land who swore fealty to your father."

When Gavro approached them, his eyes widened. He pulled his wrist out of his brother's grip and rushed forward with an almost manic expression. Viyal realized his gaze was fixated on her, and she started to worry. Yunil's hair stood on end, and she held onto Viyal in fear.

"There they are!" Gavro stopped short of the crib and peered down curiously at the two fearful girls. But then he furrowed his brow and turned to Nayavi. "This one is too white. And this one is not a Mosyv."

Viyal did not know what her uncle meant by her being too white. There were no mirrors in the tribe, so she did not know what she looked like. Still, she did not think her skin was much lighter than her mother's. Since their kind did not tan from sunlight, she thought this level of variation was normal.

"She was born alone," explained her mother. "And this is Yunil, a Nokkoy child she saved."

"So young and already a savior!" Gavro spoke with an impressed look at the two children huddling together. His expression grew sober, and he peered back at Amiro. "What is it you wish to learn that you journey to the Akhma Merkheleh?"

"Our Takheleh could not see through Viyal's mist of time and told us to seek the elder of the mountain," explained his brother calmly.

Viyal learned that the elderly woman with the painted paper mask who came to examine her soon after her birth was the tribe's shaman, called a Takheleh. Since she had been unable to divine her fortune, she told them to seek the counsel of the Akhma Merkheleh, the master of all shamans.

"This child must be destined for greatness, then!" said Gavro with a joyous grin that showed off his three rows of sharp teeth. Hearing this, Viyal's ears perked up. As expected, she was still a chosen one, just like in her previous life! "This doubly calls for a feast! Call the cooks!"

Gavro turned to the servants and ordered. They lowered their heads and moved quickly. Viyal had only ever seen such behavior when the chief gave orders. It showed that his authority was no lower than her father's.

Zalavi took the opportunity to slip by her husband and get a closer look at her niece. She was a mirror image of Nayavi except for a small scar splitting her left eyebrow. Her appearance suggested she was more comfortable fighting on a Shinoon's back than sitting on a cart doing handicrafts.

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"I believe my husband is speaking true. Her eyes show wisdom beyond her years," said Zalavi with a warm smile toward her sister. At those words, Viyal suppressed the urge to look away. She did not know if there was precedent of somebody being reincarnated into this world with their memories and how such people were treated. In either case, she would rather not find out they were shunned or even killed while she was still a weak child unable to live on her own.

"Rowen, come greet my daughter." Amiro waved over the black knight. Viyal's thoughts were blown away when the old man approached with the clattering sound of steel armor. He left his headless mount, which started to walk away on its own, and stepped up to Viyal. His eyes were hidden by the crimson hood, but he seemed capable of seeing his way regardless.

"A wonderful young lady," Rowen spoke with a thick accent unlike any Viyal had heard before. His voice was surprisingly grandfatherly, not at all as otherworldly as she expected based on his appearance. He drew his sword, fell onto one knee, and lowered his head before her. "As I have sworn to serve and protect your other family members, so I swear to serve and protect you."

"No need to be so formal, Rowen. You are a friend, not a servant," Amiro said with a wry smile and helped the elderly man back onto his feet.

Viyal was overwhelmed by Rowen's profession of loyalty. In her previous life, she had seen people speak to her father in a similar fashion. But not once had she felt such sincerity as she had from this old knight. After all, everybody had an ulterior motive in buttering up to a member of the national diet, but this man's declaration was genuine.

"Come, let us drink and feast," said Amiro, taking Gavro and Rowen by their wrists to pull them away to the center of the tent village.

A festive atmosphere soon spread among the tribe. The reunited families sat together and partook of food and drink by the bonfire. Nayavi had much to share with her sister, so Viyal took Yunil by the hand and walked among the people to see the unfamiliar faces. As she passed by near her father and uncle, she overheard their conversation as it turned to a more serious topic.

"We will not join that coalition. The Gadat are no enemies of ours." Amiro sounded obstinate, and Gavro sighed in resignation.

"The Gadat do not think the same about our people on the lowlands. They send armies to hunt our kind every summer," he argued between sips.

"When they come for us, we will fight. But the Zakhira do not stray into the lowlands. It is the lowland people's problem," responded Amiro, his tone making it clear that he would not discuss the matter further.

Viyal did not understand everything they were discussing, but war appeared to be brewing in the neighboring lands. At least she assumed that the Sunrise Lowlands were adjacent to the steppes, the only place she knew in this life.

Yunil suddenly pulled on her hand and dragged her along. She turned to see her friend heading toward a grill with an assortment of Shinoon meat on skewers. Viyal felt her mouth water at the smell. She had only been fed raw meat in this life, so the prospect of eating it grilled triggered memories from her previous life.

The two toddlers weaved through the other tribe members and approached the grill. The man turning the skewers was Mannogur, the tribe's chief cook. He was a Rausam, a species of broad and stout humanoids with leathery brown skin. What they lacked in necks, they made up for with massive mouths that could swallow Viyal and Yunil whole. He reminded her of a toad, but when he opened his mouth to taste some of the meat, he showed off two rows of sharp teeth.

"Give us two," she called out to Mannogur, causing him to bite through the wooden skewer in surprise.

"The chief's daughter! Of course, here you go!" His voice was deep and reverberating, seemingly shaking the ground he stood on. He laughed heartily and handed the two girls freshly grilled meat skewers covered in tiny red and green flakes. This was the first time Viyal saw something like spices in this world.

"What is this?" she pointed at the flakes.

"Oh? The chief's brother got these from the Tabra tribe. Try it and tell me what you think," Mannogur said, his broad mouth opening into a sharp-toothed grin. If Viyal were not used to seeing her family's smiles, she would have feared being eaten. Several tribe members sported features a human would consider threatening, so she got used to it by now.

Viyal sniffed the skewer suspiciously, but there was only the delicious scent of grilled Shinoon meat. She glanced at Yunil, who did the same but then decided it was edible and bit down on it with her recently grown teeth. If the dog-like girl's nose could not detect anything, there was likely nothing wrong.

But right as Viyal snapped off a piece of the meat with her teeth, Yunil started coughing. Tears filled her eyes, and she dropped her skewer, but Mannogur caught it with surprisingly nimble movements before it hit the ground. Viyal stared at him as he laughed heartily, but there was no malice in his mirth.

Then, the taste started to sink in for her, and she understood what it was. The flakes were perhaps like dried hot pepper, which were incredibly spicy. She would not have had any trouble with it in her previous life, but this body was not used to it. Rather than being hot, it simply hurt.

"You can spit it out if it's too much, young lady," said Mannogur when he noticed Viyal's face growing red. His joy at having pranked the chief's daughter slowly receded, and worry set in when she refused and swallowed the meat. Her species did not have molars, so she could not chew, but that only made it worse as the flakes stuck to the inside of her throat. "Here, have some milk."

Viyal took the gourd and gulped down its contents, putting out the fire in her mouth with a wave of cool milk. On the one hand, she was glad to know that spices existed in this tribe's cuisine, but on the other, she would have liked to find out without going to the extreme like this.

"Too early for you, huh? Hope the chief won't have my head for this," Mannogur joked with a wry smile while helping Yunil drink.

"Do you have other meat?" Viyal asked with a feigned resentful look, and the Rausam threw up his hands in defeat. Laughing heartily, he took several skewers without spicy flakes off the grill and handed them to the two children.

Having been burned once, Yunil was more cautious this time and examined it closely. Viyal took her by the hand and pulled her along while Mannogur waved at them. There were still more things her uncle brought from his expedition to explore at this feast, and she wanted to see it all before sleepiness would start to set in.

The tribesmen welcomed them wherever they went, patting their heads and handing them food. Viyal felt transported back to that one time in her previous life when her parents took her to a local summer festival. The various species of this tribe had their own cooking style, so it was akin to visiting different food stalls.

The most common dishes were meat and dairy-based. Vegetables were rather scarce on the steppes, where grasses dominated the flora. Only rarely could one find patches of edible plants growing on rocky hills, so they were reserved for special occasions like tonight's feast. The tribe would sometimes come into possession of flour or dried fruits through trade or raiding other tribes. They were usually made into small round cakes for desserts.

Viyal wondered about the nutritional balance of this mostly meat-based diet. She was not a human and had no molars, so perhaps at least her species was entirely carnivorous. Yunil was much like a dog from Earth, with both sharp teeth for ripping meat and molars for grinding vegetables. The Bavadi, the blue-skinned and pointy-eared humanoids who made up roughly half of the tribe's population, were similar in that regard.

They passed by an old man with a long white beard and bushy brows that covered his eyes, smoking a pipe at the edge of the festivities. He was Odaron, the Jagul's elder, their representative, and advisor to the chief. The Jagul were a human-looking species with suntanned skin, earlobes reaching down to their shoulders, and elongated skulls.

"Careful not to fall, little ones," Odaron called after them with a chuckle. He was always friendly around Viyal, but she knew his resolute side from eavesdropping on the elder meetings. And in battle, the Jagul were as vicious as the Mosyvvi, ripping enemies to shreds with their sharp, retractable claws.

After partaking in the specialties of the various species making up their tribe, Viyal returned to her mother with Yunil, their bellies full and their eyelids drooping from sleepiness. Although this life on the steppe was not as easy as her previous one, she felt blessed to have such a big, loving family. The entire tribe treated her like their collective daughter, and nobody was worried about her status when interacting with her.

Shizuru had never felt stifled by the pressure her parents' achievements exerted on her. Instead, she had always planned to surpass them in her own way eventually. But it was refreshing to live without such expectations on her shoulders. She was not a nobody in this new life, but her path did not come with the strict guardrails she previously traveled within.

With such idle thoughts, Viyal climbed into her crib beside her mother at the edge of the festivities and helped Yunil up. She sighed contentedly and turned onto her back to behold the sea of stars above. In her previous life, she had lived looking down on the city's lights, but this sight showed her the endless possibilities lying before her in this life. What would she do when she grew up? She had many ideas and all the freedom in the world.