The bowstring snapped against the Shinoon leather bracer with an audible noise, and Viyal flinched. The arrow missed the target by a mile and disappeared into the tall grass. She turned toward her instructor gingerly, who only shook her head disapprovingly.

"You are too afraid of the string," said Soroca, the Zakhira tribe's archery instructor. She was a stern Bavadi with a scar across her right cheek and a split pointy ear. Both wounds likely had been inflicted by the same attack, perhaps an enemy arrow. "The bracer will protect your arm."

Viyal nocked another arrow and pulled back the bowstring with her thumb ring. Although the practice bow's draw weight was low, her arm quivered under the exertion. When she finally reached the full draw, she could not even think about aiming and let the string slip. It snapped against her bracer again, and the arrow veered off course.

"I think she may still be too young for that," Noro commented from the sidelines.

"Then again, we already hit the center consistently at her age," added Saro beside him with a grin.

Viyal shot them a glare, and they laughed. The twins had already surpassed Rowen's height, but their overall appearances were not fully developed enough to be considered adults. For one, they had yet to grow beards, and their hair was still less dense than their father's, making for pitiful manes. Another indicator was their lack of muscular definition, which seemed to come naturally to adult male Mosyvvi.

Judging by Nayavi and Zalavi's appearances, Viyal could consider herself lucky if she grew to the same height as she had in her former life. Female Mosyvvi were nearly two heads shorter than their male counterparts, after all. Even Bavadi women outgrew them by a few inches.

Three years had passed since her destiny was revealed. The Zakhira tribe fought plenty of bandits and enemy tribes in that time, but the truth about her prophecy never came to light. By now, Viyal rarely thought about it anymore and enjoyed her life among the tribe. Her father suggested that she take up the bow and practice with the spear to prepare for her great future. Only he knew whether that was for her fake prophecy or her real one.

Shizuru had been a black belt in karate, but that had been lost with her death. Viyal's body had no muscle memory, and she had to start from scratch. Furthermore, the existence of her scorpion tail, which needed to be taken into account when it came to balance and range of motion, complicated things.

She wondered if martial arts even existed in this world. Several of the tribe's species had weapons already built into their bodies. The Rausam had giant maws with sharp teeth that had even the Mosyvvi's three rows of teeth outmatched. The Jagul had retractable claws in their fingers that could rend flesh and cut bones. They each had their own ways of fighting that others could not imitate for lack of such physical features.

But without fail, they all learned mounted archery from the Bavadi, who were closest to humans in terms of physical appearance. What they lacked in physical features, they made up for with dexterity and ingenuity. Also, they had extremely venomous saliva that they applied to their spears and arrowheads when facing enemies of the tribe.

"They are born!" Marala, the Bavadi midwife who had helped deliver Viyal and nearly lost a finger for her effort, called out across the camp. She exchanged a look with Soroca, then dropped her bow carelessly and ran off. Noro and Saro followed her, leaving the archery instructor smiling wryly at their backs.

Viyal sprinted through the camp, hopping over obstacles along the way. She almost ran into Yunil as she rounded a tent and tripped over one of the Nokkoy's big feet. Yunil reacted quickly and caught Viyal's wrist, saving her from a painful tumble into a wooden rack for drying Shinoona bones.

Her best friend had shot up faster than anybody could have imagined. Despite being not even four years old, she already looked almost like a teenager. Her formerly barely noticeable tail had grown into a long, bushy one that showed the emotions she hid behind an aloof façade. Viyal's initial assessment that she resembled a dog was accurate not only in her physical appearance but also in her growth rate.

"What's got you running?" Yunil asked, causing the roast Shinoon shank she carried in her mouth to fall out. She casually caught it by the bone and swung it up like a club.

"You didn't hear?" Viyal wondered, staring at her best friend's floppy dog ears blending in with her shaggy flaxen hair. Her hearing was the best in the entire tribe, so her missing Marala's announcement meant she was busy with something else. Considering the Shinoon shank looked like it was not fully cooked through, she must have swiped it from a grill and been chased by the original owner. "They are born!"

Yunil blinked in confusion. Then, realization dawned on her. Before she could say anything in response, Viyal took her by the hand and pulled her along. They soon reached a crowd surrounding a tent and murmuring curiously. Yunil used her larger frame to push past the people and open a path for Viyal. They reached the tent entrance, where Rowen greeted them.

"There you are. Go in." The old knight nodded and stepped aside. He appeared to be guarding the entrance from the overly curious people who wanted to peek inside, but not one tribe member would dare to do so. After all, it was Gavro and Zalavi's tent.

The inside smelled of blood masked by incense. Noro and Saro were already by the crib, from which the sound of two babies cooing emerged. Amiro stood behind them, seemingly watching their actions to ensure they did not misbehave. Gavro had his back turned to hide his expression, but he was quivering with joy.

Nayavi sat on a chair beside Zalavi, who looked tired but relieved. This was her first birth, and it came rather late compared to her sister. But Viyal learned why the two sisters seemed so different when Zalavi became pregnant. When a Mosyv woman gave birth, her body changed fundamentally, and she lost muscle mass in exchange for increased fertility. Viyal wondered about the biological justification for such a strange phenomenon, but it was an undeniable truth of her species.

Zalavi had held out on having children so long to fight by her husband's side, but they finally decided to produce heirs. From here on out, she would no longer follow him into battle and instead stay with Nayavi in the camp to rear her children. It had been a difficult decision for both of them, but when they saw the newborn twins, a girl and a boy, they did not feel an ounce of regret.

Viyal peered into the crib and saw the two children already wrapped in cloth. Their eyes were open, and they followed every little movement from the people surrounding them. The boy frowned, his piercing blue glare seemingly trying to scare Noro and Saro away. Meanwhile, the girl's green eyes were fixated on Viyal curiously.

"Lavaro and Layavi," said Zalavi with a proud smile. Those were the names of the newest members of their family. It was rather rare for Mosyvvi twins to be of opposite genders. Destiny usually held great things in store for them. The Takheleh would come sooner rather than later to divine it for them.

Gavro suddenly turned around with a broad grin and swept up his children from the crib. They were shaken by the sudden movements and struggled inside their cloth bundles, trying to bite whatever came close to their mouths. Viyal wondered if that was why Amiro seemed impressed when he first picked her up, and she did not struggle at all. This was the normal behavior for Mosyvvi newborns.

"You will grow up to be great!" he raised them up high and announced while avoiding getting his fingers bitten.

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A few weeks later, the Takheleh visited Lavaro and Layavi in their birth tent. The other tribe members stood outside and awaited the pronouncement of their destinies anxiously. Given Viyal's situation, perhaps they could also expect something special from these unusual twins.

The Takheleh opened the door flap, expelling a wave of incense smoke from the inside. The gathered people respectfully opened a path for the elderly woman in the paper mask, and she slowly walked past them while leaning heavily on her staff. Nobody expected a word from her; the parents would make the announcement themselves.

Gavro swept aside the tent flap with his tail and carried Lavaro and Layavi out on his arms. His was the expression of a proud father, and everybody relaxed, for they knew he had good news. Zalavi stepped out behind him with a relieved smile.

"Layavi will weave a tapestry in honor of Azakhal that will become the steppe people's flag for all time to come!" Gavro announced, lifting his daughter on his big palm high above the crowd. Then he raised his son with the other. "Lavaro will be a hero in the fight against the Gadat and drive them from the steppe for three generations!"

The gathered people cheered, but Viyal raised an eyebrow at the grand prophecies. She heard from Noro and Saro about their destinies: To lead the Zakhira together and grow their numbers to become the most powerful tribe on the steppe. Her father's prophecy was to slay a hundred enemies in his lifetime; Gavro would act as an avatar of Azakhal and spread his word farther than it had ever been. Viyal thought the Takheleh who divined their destinies might have accidentally switched them around.

Zalavi was said to defeat the man who would go on to cherish her more than anything else in the world. Finally, Nayavi would be the mother of children who would go down in history. These two had arguably already fulfilled their prophecies if Viyal's was to be believed.

Judging by the latter two examples, she could only admit that they were perhaps all real. But the parting words of the Akhma Merkheleh would always ring in her mind: A prophecy only had as much weight as one afforded it. Perhaps it meant those who believed in their grand destinies would try their best to live up to them, fulfilling them in the process. And if one decided to pay it no heed, one could walk a different path in life.

Viyal understood the irony of her disapproval. In her past life, her path to success had been set all the same. The only difference was that the likelihood of failure was far less in the modern world filled with rules and guardrails. Here, she could still die before she saw her thirteenth birthday, even when nobody knew the truth.

The tribe started a celebration for the baby twins, who looked around in confusion at the countless gazes and voices directed at them. They were still too young to understand anything and were simply along for the ride.

Viyal realized early on that the tribe took every opportunity to feast. It was a good way to strengthen the bonds between the various species that comprised the Zakhira tribe, which usually lived separately in their own groups. Only Mosyvvi chiefs had the power and charisma to bring different species together like this.

Yunil took her by the hand, pulling her out of her thoughts. The young Nokkoy guided her toward Mannogur's grill to get there before a line formed. The Rausam chief cook always made the best spicy meat skewers since he knew how to cut them for the perfect ratio of fat and lean parts. Thus, the demand was always high, and the best parts were often gone quickly.

Unfortunately, a small group of tribesmen had the same idea. At the forefront were Noro and Saro, who pestered Mannogur to give them a dozen each. When he spotted Viyal and Yunil approaching, the toad-like cook lifted several skewers from the grill and made everybody's eyes follow them. With his other hand, like a street magician performing a vanishing trick, he picked up half a dozen of the best parts and tossed them toward the two girls in an arc.

Yunil skillfully caught them between her fingers and turned away to hide them. Viyal nodded at Mannogur, who winked at them with a broad grin. By the time Noro, Saro, and the others looked down at the grill and noticed the missing skewers, the two girls were already out of sight.

They walked back toward the center of the festivities, happily enjoying the spicy meat they had come to love after their initially painful experience with it. Most adults around a bonfire where they ate meat they grilled themselves, drank copious amounts of wine, and smoked pipes. It was no place for children, so she nodded for Yunil to follow her to the Shinoona pen, where they could sit and eat unbothered.

Soroca already sat on the slope overlooking the pen, watching the surrounding lands with her sharp gaze. The tribe was camped on a small hill overlooking the plains that stretched to the horizon on all sides. Although Viyal had seen such a sight many times over the years, it was still humbling. Their entire tribe was but a small speck in this vast ocean of green, a tiny flicker of civilization as far as the eyes could see.

"Young lady," Soroca greeted Viyal, then nodded at Yunil silently. Although everybody knew the Nokkoy was her best friend, they still could not treat her with the same level of respect as the chief's daughter. But in this case, Soroca showed personal bias since Yunil refused to learn archery and turned up her button nose at it to boot.

Yunil once showed the instructor up by casually catching one of her arrows in one hand while rushing past the target with a stolen piece of meat in her mouth. She then announced that archery was useless if one could so easily catch the projectiles. Despite still being a child, the young Nokkoy showed why the trader who sold her called her species good fighters. Viyal wondered if he had merely tried to butter up her father by saying the Nokkoy were not as strong as Mosyvvi.

Viyal wordlessly offered Soroca one of the skewers, but she declined. She could not handle spicy food but did not want her pupil to know. It would hurt her image as a stoic and battle-hardened warrior and instructor of the tribe.

The two children sat down in the grass beside the pen and ate their meal silently while looking out across the plains. Yunil was usually a hyperactive tomboy, but she could calm down and appreciate a slow moment with Viyal. Although their growth rates were different, they would always be sisters.

Soroca suddenly perked up and stared into the distance. Viyal noticed it and followed her gaze to see a large dust cloud being kicked up over the horizon. It did not look like whatever caused it was approaching them, but Soroca decided to alert the tribe nonetheless. As she ran off wordlessly, Yunil exchanged a look with Viyal, who pointed at the phenomenon. When she saw it, she put her ear to the ground.

"Lots of hooves," she commented after a moment. "Light, no riders."

"You can hear that from so far away?" Viyal was surprised by the Nokkoy's incredible hearing. She knew it was sharp, but not at such a level.

"If the tribe didn't dance and stomp so close by, I could maybe tell how many there are. But at least three hundred, I think," Yunil responded proudly. Viyal furrowed her brow; was that a purely biological ability or something supernatural?

Soroca soon returned with several other tribesmen in tow. Among them were Amiro and Gavro, who towered over the others and could see farther than anybody. They shielded their eyes and stared into the distance for a while. Then, their expressions lit up with joy.

"Today is a good day, Brother!" Gavro exclaimed and clapped his hands together in a thunderous crack.

"Mount up! We double our Shinoona herd today!" announced Amiro in an excited roar that echoed across the camp. Many of the warriors ran to their tents to pick up their equipment while others readied the mounts. The entire tribe was in an uproar.

Viyal spotted her brothers among them, excited for their first Shinoona herding. The steppes were so extensive that one rarely ran across a wild herd. They had hunted plenty of game and fought off bandits in the past few years, but this was something special even for the steppe tribes.

As the tribesmen dispersed, only Rowen was left behind. He stepped up to Viyal and Yunil, showing no hint of calling his headless mount. When he noticed the two girls' questioning gazes, he looked into the distance and explained, "My buddy is too slow to keep up with the Shinoona."

Of course, a mount in plate barding with a fully armored knight on its back could not hope to match the fleet-footed Shinoona carrying light riders. Viyal still did not understand why Rowen always wore his armor, even at celebrations, but perhaps it was related to his species. He was clearly not a human, after all.

Yunil watched the tribesmen heading out restlessly. Her tail stood up and swished back and forth slowly, showing that her tension was pulled taut and ready for release. She glanced at Viyal as if asking for permission. But she knew she could not get it.

"Not yet," Viyal put a hand on Yunil's arm, and her tail stopped before drooping like a deflated balloon. The Nokkoy had yet to learn how to ride a Shinoon, but according to the trader who sold her to them, her tribe kept no mounts and ran on their own two legs. Perhaps she could match the riders' speed and hunt alongside them once she was fully grown.

Viyal watched her people split into three groups as they rode across the plains. They used whistles and hand signs to communicate, moving like the wind to catch up to the wild Shinoona herd. Although they had drunk much wine in celebration, riding came to them like second nature. They would not fail.

She only had to wait another year to join them. Thinking about the fast-approaching milestones of a child of the steppe, she grew giddy. Yunil's floppy ears twitched, and she tilted her head at her questioningly. Did the Nokkoy hear her heartbeat quicken? Viyal shook her head with a wry smile, then leaned against her shoulder and sighed contentedly.