Teng sat across from Delia under the willows by the creek, a large, rounded river rock between them. All around, girls and aunties worked with similar stones, each smoothed by years of running water. Draped across the stones lay hides and skins in shades of brown, yellow, and gray.

“Father says the ceremony is close. Right after the frost dies down,” Delia said, pulling her side of the skin as Teng held it steady, letting it slide over.

This was the final step in making hides and skins ready, softening them for long use. Once supple, they’d be used for many things: wraps, pouches, water bags, drums, mats, blankets, tool handles. They were important for the tribe, this had become very clear to Teng over the weeks. He had never known how much time each step took either.

“So?” Teng asked, now his turn to pull as Delia kept her end taut.

She shrugged, straining to keep the skin in place. “What will you bring?”

“Bring?” he echoed, brow furrowing. “For what?”

“For the offering, dummy.” She smirked. “A monkey, maybe?”

“A monkey?” Teng scoffed. “I could catch a monkey right now if I wanted.”

“Oh, that sure of yourself?” Delia raised an eyebrow, catching his uncertain grin.

“Well…” he muttered, scratching his head. “I mean, no. But a monkey is no good offering anyway. Why did you bring it up?”

Delia laughed, shrugging again “I wanted be a hunter too, you know. When I was younger.”

“You?” He looked at her, his eyebrows high.

“Why not?” She shot him a glance, pulling the skin a bit more forcefully than needed. “Hunting for meat, protecting the tribe, honoring the spirits—why would I not want that?”

Teng shrugged. It made sense. If he were her, he would want the same. “What would you bring as offering, then? A monkey?”

She grinned. “That’s why I like you, Teng. Most boys would laugh. But no, not a monkey. If I was a boy, I would bring a white leopard from the mountains.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re not.”

“What?”

“A boy.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, just… you know.” He said it lamely, not really sure why he’d said it at all. “Anyway, they can be white? Leopards, I mean. ”

Delia nodded, her eyes bright. “Father says they only show themselves when they are ready to pounce, then disappear in the snow like they were never there at all. Like sprites.”

“Then how does anyone know they’re real?”

She chuckled. “Well, have you seen the spirits?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know they are real?”

“Alright, I get it.”

She nodded, then bit her lip. “But really, Teng, don’t bring a monkey; I would be disappointed.”

“Why?” he asked.

“I just would,” she answered simply.

Teng finished his work with Delia, the other girls, and the aunties as the sun sat perched at the top of the sky. He gave Delia a quick goodbye, then dashed off, eager to meet the boys at the forest clearing where they had agreed to gather. He had told his mother he would be in the woods a while to play with the other boys, and she had let him go with a warning to stay out of trouble and not wander too far.

Not far from the village, Kai, Jirki, and the others waited in a grassy clearing. Only Kai and Jirki seemed calm, Kai with his arms crossed, watching the boys shift and fidget. When they saw Teng approach, grins spread across their faces, and they started to move.

The forest swallowed them up, alive with the whisper of leaves, sharp birdcalls, and somewhere deeper, a lone toad’s croak. Kai led them over glimmering streams and between great oaks where they ducked under reaching branches. Teng loved this wild feeling, the way the forest was always buzzing with life and secrets waiting to be found. Beyond the tree crowns, the sky was blue and cloudless.

At the edge of a glade, Bai, Kai’s older brother, leaned against a boulder beneath a tall tree. As they neared, Bai straightened, a pair of fighting sticks slung over his shoulder and a pile of sturdy branches stacked beside him.

“Nobody saw you, right?” he asked Kai as they got closer.

Kai smirked. “Not even a bird.”

“Well, then,” Bai breathed deeply, looking over the group. He gestured to the branches. “Take one each.”

Teng’s eyes drifted to the pink scars dotting Bai’s left shoulder, where his arm hung limp. Bai caught him looking and chuckled, misreading Teng’s expression. “Don’t worry, the branches don’t bite,” he said.

Bai shifted his gaze to Kai, then spoke so all the boys could hear, now holding a branch of his own. “I wanted to train this little pest alone, but after a while, he refused to come unless he could bring you lot along too.” A half-smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he spoke. “So here we are.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Jirki frowned at the branch in his hand. “Why can’t we use real fighting sticks?”

Bai shook his head. “None of you are ready. And how would you explain a deep gash or puncture wound to your mothers? Or what would I say when you told them what we’ve been doing?”

He raised his branch, glancing meaningfully at the boys. “These branches will teach you well enough. Strength, balance, focus—all of it matters before you ever hold a real fighting stick.”

Kai stepped up beside Teng, adjusting his grip on the branch and guiding Teng’s hands. “Hold it steady, like this,” he murmured. “Keep your stance grounded. If a beast lunges, you want to be ready, not knocked flat.”

Teng tried to mimic Kai’s stance. Kai moved with the ease of practice, and Teng felt a pang of admiration. He wanted to be just as confident as his friend. Teng tightened his grip, glancing at Kai’s stance. He mused, not for the first time, how Kai could act with such confidence, as if he already was a man. Well, Jirki too, though Teng didn’t know him that well.

“Alright, each of you—feel the branch,” Bai said, showing how with his own. “Get to know its weight, how it moves, how it wants to be held.”

They waved their branches in the air, stabbing out and blocking imaginary beasts. Teng felt a little foolish doing it but had to admit he was getting a better feel for the branch. Once they’d done this for some time, they each took turns sparring with Bai, who corrected stances and demonstrated how to thrust and block.

His voice was firm, his gaze sharp, each correction hitting its mark. Teng had no trouble moving as he was taught as he was quick and nimble. He did, however, struggle to thrust at the same time as thinking about moving. When he did move well, he forgot to use his spear. And when he used his spear, he forgot to move.

After a round of sparring, Bai gathered them up. “A fighting stick—or a branch for now—is your best friend out there. Aside from fellow hunters. It keeps a beast’s teeth away from your skin and lets you strike before it can. You need to learn how to use it, you need to take care of it, and most of all, you need to respect it. A fighting stick is fearsome too. The bone tip is sharp, and it may snap if used badly.”

Teng’s breath came quick and short as he listened. He pictured himself fighting off a beast with a fighting stick just as fine and long as his father’s stick.

Bai pointed at Jirki. “I’ll fight big boy here. You pair up and practice.”

Kai turned to Teng, grinning as he tapped his branch against his hand. “Ready to get a lesson in humility, twiggy?”

Teng smiled, though his grip tightened. “Maybe... we’ll see who’s the twig.”

They stepped away from the group and watched each other, but before Teng could steady his stance, Kai lunged. Teng moved out of the way, but the other boy’s branch swatted his own as he tried to use it, and it escaped his hands.

Kai chuckled and picked it up, tossing it back to him. “You swing that branch like it’s still stuck to the tree.”

Teng tried to think of a sharp reply but only managed a clumsy, “At least I don’t trip over my own feet.”

Before he could think too much, Kai lunged forward with a quick jab. Teng stumbled back, surprised, barely dodging, and thrust his spear out in return, only for Kai to sidestep and tap him lightly on the shoulder.

He did, in fact, trip over his own feet.

“And wobbly as a newborn deer,” Kai pointed out.

“Hey! That was not fair.” Teng yelled. “I wasn’t ready!”

Kai patted him on the back. “Don’t worry, twig-legs. One day, you’ll be as good as me. Nearly as good, at least.”

They continued to pair off, sparring under Bai’s watchful eye. Every time Teng glanced over, he saw Bai’s approving nod to Kai. Teng couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy. He had no siblings of his own and wondered what it would be like to have an older brother.

“I’ll spar with Kai for a while,” Bai said after another fight between Kai and Teng. “Jirki, you take over.”

Jirki lumbered over, his huge body towering over Teng, who was a head shorter.

Kai threw Teng a quick smile, then wandered off with his brother.

Teng stood across from Jirki, his branch held tightly in both hands. Jirki, tall and unyielding, seemed to hold his branch with the strength of a rooted tree. While Kai’s moves were quick and clever, Jirki’s stance was like a solid wall. Teng’s stomach tightened as he braced himself.

Jirki moved first, stepping forward with a steady, powerful thrust. A thrust, Bai had explained, was all about using the weight and momentum of a fighting stick with speed.

Teng’s hands shook a little as he angled his branch to block the sharp attack, the force sending a jolt through his arms. The impact nearly loosened his grip, but he held on, stumbling back a step to regain his balance.

They circled slowly, branches held out. Teng attempted to mirror the weight and certainty in his opponent’s movements. But when he lunged forward with his own thrust, Jirki met it directly and swatted Teng’s branch aside. It seemed to have been done with little to no effort, which made Teng gnash his teeth. Then Jirki stepped forward again.

Teng managed to dodge the worst of it, but the end of the branch grazed his shoulder, making him wince. He tightened his hold and tried to press forward too, but Jirki blocked his moves, again with no apparent effort.

Frustration began to simmer as Teng struggled to match Jirki’s attacks. Each strike felt heavier, and his arms began to ache from deflecting the strong blows. He stepped back, panting, while Jirki advanced slowly, the same calm, relentless pace in his movements.

The next strike from Jirki caught him square in the side, knocking him off balance and nearly sending him to the ground. Teng stumbled, regaining his footing just in time to meet Jirki’s thrust, which halted right before his chest. He was out of breath, his arms sore, and his pride bruised.

Jirki stepped back, silent as ever, but gave Teng a small nod before turning his attention to Kai and Bai, who had now taken up the two fighting sticks Bai had carried over his shoulder. The sticks moved in a blur, the sharp bone tips flashing in the sunlight with each engagement. It was clear that Bai didn’t have any interest in training with him, leaving Teng to catch his breath in peace.

Teng felt a surge of determination fill him. He knew, without a doubt, that he had a long way to go. But losing to Jirki, and to Kai before him, sent a burn of frustration through him. It wasn’t that he’d lost to them, but the fact that he’d done so in this way.

He’d train harder, he swore to himself, practice until his thrusts were steady, his stance solid, his own strength undeniable. Also, he didn’t want to be called twig-legs—something he realized he disliked very much.

As the sun dipped lower, they all sat down to rest. He had faced off against the other boys and fared well, even winning a few battles. Bai walked over to him as he lay in the soft grass. His body was full of corded muscle with a few white scars across his belly and chest.

“You’re fast and strong, and you move well when you’re not thinking too much. You held onto the branch even after Jirki hit it with full force,” Bai told him, looking down from where he stood. He then cupped a hand to his chin. “Wouldn’t think it by looking at you. Can’t be muscle; you’re rather skinny. Yes, hmm, it must be essence. Do you get all the meat in your family or what?”

“Essence? All the meat?” It took some time for Teng to understand what Bai was suggesting. “Just some.” he replied, grinning.

In truth, Teng did not get all the meat in the family. His father always ate first, then him and his mother. Teng thought it had to do with the blue bird. Ever since eating its meat, Teng had changed very much. So much that he could now keep up with the boys, and even surpass them in some cases, when it came to strength and speed. And they had very tough tasks, so they had much muscle from that. Kai had also practiced before with his brother, and Jirki was just Jirki. Large and tall with big arms like many young men.

“Well, keep at it. Muscle and skill come with time and practice.” Bai said, then walked off and sat down beside Kai, falling into discussion.

Teng lifted one of his arms to look at. It was a wiry thing compared to the arms of the other boys, much like the branch he held. But he was still growing, his mother often told him, and still learning. A distant feeling tugged at him, a flash of blue flashing through his mind. The feathers. He would have to think on how to have time for studying them and the thin bones of the blue bird combined with this.

Maybe, he thought, figuring out their mysteries would make him better at moving his body the way he wanted to. Especially if he could find a way to keep his essence moving in his body like he had done yesterday. When it had been moving, he seemed to dance and glide across the ground. He let out a big breath, silently vowing to keep training with the boys and Bai while dedicating himself to understanding his feathers and bones. He had his work during the morning as well.

As he lay on his back, a cloud drifted by, shaped like a squirrel, and he chuckled quietly to himself.

This had been a good day indeed.