My little bowl was finally taking shape.

It was wobbly, and to be a little honest my fingers were starting to ache something fierce, but I could finally see the bowl take its form.

I had found a perfectly shaped, and most importantly smooth, stone in the river. It was just the right size. Just the right color. Just the perfect would-be bowl for me.

Proudly smiling at the thing as I blew off some of the dust from my grinding. It didn’t all leave the bowl, but enough left to reveal the little pattern that had made it pretty enough for me to have picked it and not any of the other countless stones.

The pattern was wavelike, and shifted colors. The stone itself was a pretty blue, but the wavelike patterns were purples of many shades. Some so bright that it was almost unnatural.

I had been worried in the beginning. As I grounded out the shape of the dip as to make it an actual bowl, that the patterns and colors would disappear… but it seemed it had been a pointless worry. The patterns went through the whole rock.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to break it, little Rennalee?”

Looking away from my project, I smiled and shook my head at my grandmother. “I’m having fun. Thank you though.”

The woman who looked just like my mother, though with snow specked hair, smirked and nodded as she turned away.

Watching grandmother head for the garden, I wondered what she planned on doing. The sun was getting ready to rise. She and grandfather rarely ventured out of home during the day.

Opening my mouth, as to call out to her and find out… I decided to not.

If she had wanted me for something she would have said so.

Returning my attention to my bowl… or rather, the soon-to-be bowl, I smiled as I went back to grinding.

It was boring. Monotonous. And took forever.

And it seemed most of my family found it a little odd, too.

Yet for me this was not just fun…

“It’d be mine,” I whispered as I blew some of the ground up rock off again.

“What would be yours?”

I didn’t stop trying to shape the bowl as I looked up at my sister. My oldest.

Narrowing my eyes at her, I quickly judged if I should be on guard or not.

She, unlike me and our youngest sister, didn’t look like mother. She had taken after father. And not just in looks.

Right now though I didn’t need to worry. She was frowning. As if upset.

Which meant she wasn’t.

It was when she smiled I needed to worry.

“I’m making another bowl,” I said to her calmly, as I kept grinding the stone into shape.

Glennessa frown deepened, and her pretty blue eyes lowed to my lap, where the bowl sat.

“Don’t we have enough bowls?” she asked.

“We do,” I admitted. For all of you.

“Hmph.” She huffed at me and looked around for a moment at the open room. “Your mother is looking for you,” she said.

My hands finally went still, as I stopped shaping the bowl. “She is?” I asked softly.

She nodded. “They think it’s finally time. I hope you prove me wrong, but I don’t expect it,” Glennessa said as her frown turned into a small smile.

My tail went stiff at the sight of her smile. That smile worried me far more than her tone. And twice as much as what she was actually saying.

It was time.

Time… for what…?

“Okay…” I mumbled as I slowly stood.

“Who knows… maybe spilling some blood would do you good,” Glennessa said as she left, stepping off the ledge of the room and to the outside.

Watching her go, I glared at her long tail. It was more poofy than my own, or my mother’s, and instead of being shades of brown it was pure black.

Like her heart.

Looking away from her before she could glance back and see my glare, I went to put my bowl away. I lifted a small section of the wood floor up in the corner of the room, and deposited the bowl and the little hardened wooden thing I used to polish stone.

I put the bowl next to the others I was making. Another bowl. A smaller one. Some plates. And eventually even utensils. Most weren’t formed at all yet, but instead still just rocks. But I planned to get to them all eventually. I hadn't found the right rock for a cup yet, but I had time considering how long it was taking me to grind them into shape.

One day I’d have my own set. For me.

Something that I could eat on. Even if all that was on them were just scraps. I’d soon be eating properly. Without making a mess. Without having to wait for someone else to finish, so I could use their plates or bowls.

Once they were all set away I put the section of floor back down and made sure it was solidly secured. If Glennessa, or father, tripped or stubbed their toes because I hadn’t properly returned it to its proper place I’d never hear the end of it.

If I was able to hear anything at all, after their beatings.

Stepping out of the room, and deeper into the large house, I walked slowly as I focused on the sounds. The house had been built to be open, a place without walls, but there were still plenty of support pillars and curtains to block sight. And since the whole family lived here, and not a few were smelly, finding mother by scent alone was difficult and…

“Your father was born with blood on his claws. Not everyone has the same destiny,” Mother’s voice made my ears flutter as I found her. That was on the other side of the house, near the kitchens. Maybe even in them.

Heading for her, I listened intently to the conversation she was having with my oldest brother. He sounded as annoyed as Glennessa had looked.

“Just because she’s ugly doesn’t mean she can be coddled. Glennessa was half her age when she went on her first hunt,” he said.

Glennessa also grew up killing small animals for fun, but no one seemed to find that strange either.

But hearing this was about a hunt both relieved me... and made me anxious.

Why did brother say first? I've hunted before, many times. Though I wasn't anywhere near as successful or as good as the rest of them, it didn't make sense for him to phrase it in such a way.

Walking around a large pillar, and past some curtains that were used to block the kitchen from sight, I found my mother and brother. They were in the small room next to the main kitchen, lounging around a small fire. One boiling a pot.

“Mother,” I greeted mother as I stepped over to her. She was tearing a cabbage apart, so I didn’t bother her more than necessary.

And my brother was standing near another pillar in the corner of the room, resting against it.

“Father’s found a human group, Rennalee. One he thinks would be suitable as your first hunt,” my brother said in greeting, not caring to make small talk with me.

Human?

I wonder what kind of animal my father has deemed… suitable, as my brother says, are? Hopefully nothing too strong or big.

I’ve heard them speak of such things before. They like many other creatures and beings they spoke of and told their stories about… were things lost to time. Or at least, not as common as they used to be. Beings that had existed during our ancestor’s age. Back when we had hunted alongside gods.

They were rare. Rare enough that I was a little surprised neither father, or anyone else, hadn’t wanted to hunt them.

But such a thing was actually a good sign, in a way.

If they were actually something fun to hunt, or dangerous, my siblings and father would definitely not want to share them with me. Even more so if these human things were tasty.

And even if they somehow didn’t let their greed and gluttony get in the way with sharing… I couldn’t see them willingly let me tackle something far beyond my means.

Maybe that was brother was complaining about.

“She’s not ready,” mother said.

Although any of my other siblings would have been bothered to hear that their mother doubted them, I instead was overjoyed.

Mother was worried for me. At least someone was.

“Father’s already summoned her,” brother though tossed aside mother’s words as easily as he would a bug.

Studying my brother as he studied me, I wondered what he was thinking. Was he angry? That I was going to get to hunt with father and not him? Or was he upset with me? Maybe he thought I’d die or get hurt?

Or was it something far worse than any of that.

“Is father here?” I asked him.

He scoffed at me, but said nothing.

Wonderful.

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I sighed as I watched mother put some of the torn cabbage into the pot. She was just dumping it in, and some of the boiling water was splashing because of it.

Usually I’d worry father would abuse me by sending me after something dangerous, but it was moments like these that my families… disgust, with my weak self, was to my benefit.

They hated that I was weaker than them. Yet for as much as they hated me for it, they also pitied me.

It was why they never let me hunt anything too dangerous alone, without help. Even though they always yelled and complained, they never put me in too much danger.

To them it was a pride thing. If I got too hurt or died by something other than family, they were the ones who were insulted. Even though I’d be the one hurt.

Even though they’d just beat me after, as if it had all been my fault.

“What’s a human, mother?” I asked as I picked up the large spoon as to stir the pot for her as she went to adding the cabbage to it.

“A lanky animal. One we used to hunt for sport, before our ancestors grew weak,” brother answered for me.

A lanky… animal?

Maybe some kind of deer?

Hopefully that was all it was. If it ended up being some kind of bear or moose then I might end up getting hurt again.

Mother sighed as she dumped the rest of the cabbage into the pot and went to grab another. There were a few dozen foodstuffs sitting near her on a small plank. Was that one of grandfather’s apples? He’d given her permission to take one?

I’d only ever gotten two in my whole life from him. Two in thirty odd years.

I wonder if she was going to actually put it into the pot too. If she did… would I be able to get a bite of it then? If I was lucky enough to have it poured when it was my turn?

As I stirred, I kept myself from getting too excited over the idea. Especially since I might not even be here to eat this dinner, if I’m to go hunting with father.

It’s just my luck I’d miss dinner like this. Especially when it had something tasty in it.

“Go get ready Rennalee. Don’t keep your father waiting,” Mother warned gently.

Ah. Right.

I stopped stirring the pot, and was about to hand the ladle to my brother… but realized how pointless such a thing was.

Men didn’t cook, for whatever reason.

Putting the large spoon down, I hurried away to go to my room.

“You coddle her mother. She’ll never sharpen her fangs if don’t let her chip a few teeth,” brother scorned me as I left them behind.

I tried to imagine chipping teeth and shivered at the idea. I bet it hurt.

Maybe that was why everyone was always so growly. Their teeth hurt.

My room was at the other side of the house, but was not covered by any curtains. It instead had actual walls, although they were thin things made of wound and tied leaves and branches. It was one of only a few rooms that had real walls. Grandmother had made them for us daughters. We didn’t use to have walls, like everyone else’s rooms, but one day she just… got the urge to make them for us for some reason. They had gone up when I had been younger. Not long before my youngest sister had been born.

She had never really gave a reason as to why, but she had made it clear if anyone took them down she’d eat them for breakfast. Literally.

It was a good thing though. Although rickety, they kept the damp and wind out during the winter. I had gotten sick once when real young, so I had worried for my newest sibling. My youngest sister. But luckily not only had the walls helped her, but she had been made of stouter stuff than me. She hadn’t gotten sick during her baby years and…

“Sister!”

I stopped myself from entering our room, and turned to smile at the one I had just been thinking about.

Little Fellisee hurried over to me. Her happy smile made me almost forget about the worry in my heart as she came to a stop a few steps from me and lifted what was in her hands.

Peering at the little animal, I frowned at the thing. “Fellisee I think it’s dead,” I said gently.

Fellisee startled, and looked down to the little bird. Her happy smile she just had was now gone as she realized I was right.

“Huh…? Oh… But it was just…” Fellisee sounded heartbroken as she realized that she had accidentally killed the thing.

I gulped lightly as I reached out and patted the young girl on the head. Her ears were larger than mine, although we shared our mother’s colors she had inherited our father’s large ears and tail. “Bird’s are fragile, little Fellisee. You need to be more careful,” is said.

“Mhm…” she nodded, and her long tail twitched wildly under her dress.

She wouldn’t cry… but I knew she basically was. Inside.

One didn’t cry in this family. Not unless they wanted a beating.

She was stronger than me. And not just in strength.

“I’d offer to help you bury it, but I need to go to father. He’s summoned me. If you want to wait until I get back, I’ll help you,” I said to her.

My youngest sister looked up, and nodded quickly. Excited to hear I’d help her with something that no one else in the family would even consider.

“Okay. I don’t know how long I’ll be but I’m sure it won’t take more than a day or two. Why not go put it near one of the big trees for now? In a box maybe?” I suggested.

“Okay!” Fellisee happily nodded, then spun on a bare foot and ran off.

Watching her go, I sighed and wondered what it was like.

To be so strong that when even grabbing something, you could accidentally kill it.

Odds are Fellisee had simply… shaken the bird too hard. Or squeezed it, upon seeing me and running up to me. Especially if it had just been making noises a few moments before she had done so.

I was strong enough to kill a bird. Honestly anything probably was. They were that fragile. But Fellisee’s quick movements, even when just naturally running around, were far sharper and with more momentum than me. Personally, I’d be so conscious about the bird, I wasn’t sure if I would let it happen. I’d be so worried I’d kill it accidentally that odds are it’d not happen no matter how much I ran around with it.

Fellisee was actually a kind girl. Although as strong as my brothers, she was nearly the complete opposite of our oldest sister, Glennessa. She wasn’t even half my height, and I was already unable to beat her when it came to physical things. Luckily she wasn’t like Glennessa.

Glennessa had always wanted to fight or wrestle growing up. Fellissee would rather race or play hide and seek.

She wasn’t even half my age, yet she was far stronger than me. To the point that Glennessa in all her cruelty now actually avoided trying to pick fights with her, since she feared actually losing one of them.

If she lost a fight to such a young girl our brothers would never let her hunt with them again. They were weird that way.

Once my youngest sister was out of sight, I felt comfortable enough to return to my task.

Entering my room, I went to the little box in the corner that held my clothes. It wasn’t as big as my other sister's boxes, but I’d not rally ever needed anything bigger. I only had a few sets of clothes, and only ever made new ones when I absolutely needed to.

I didn’t like making clothes. It was hard. Sewing was hard. I was weak enough to not break the needles that grandfather made, like my brothers did, but for some reason I just couldn’t do it properly. All I ever did was waste the thread given to me, which only got me in more trouble than it was worth.

Luckily Fellisee helped me when I desperately needed new clothing. She was still young enough to not find helping out a fellow family member an odd thing.

“She’s so strong that she kills animals on accident, yet can sew perfectly,” I whispered as I wondered about it.

Maybe it was just her age. Maybe it was more an emotional thing than a conscious one. If so she might get better as she gets older.

Putting the clothes I wore when hunting on, I picked up my pace as I hurried back to my brother and mother.

I found my mother gone, and the pot she had been cooking with simmering. Brother was sitting on the edge of the house’s floor, scratching at his right palm. It looked like there was a large gash on it, one that was in the middle of healing.

“Are you hurt brother?” I asked as I stepped up to him.

His ears twitched as he turned to look up at me. “Glennessa tried to take my fish yesterday,” he said.

“Ah…” I nodded. That made sense, I guess.

He huffed as he stood from the edge of the floor, and fell to the grass beneath. I stepped off the edge of the house, to join him to the world below.

Once on the ground I turned to look at the space beneath the house. It like always was dark. Too dark. Even for the dark of the night right before sunrise.

It had always bothered me. Why did we live in a house built up off the ground like it was? On stilts? Why was it dark under there?

It did snow, heavily, but the snow packed higher than our house did even on the stilts. So I couldn’t think that was the reason. And although it stormed, and the snow melted, once the winter freeze was over… it rarely flooded enough to warrant it either.

And why did no one ever ask why or even notice it?

“Father is near the spring. I’m supposed to take you there, but not all the way,” brother said.

“Oh?” I returned my focus ahead, and found that he was already half way to the edge of the perimeter. If I didn’t hurry he’d be into the thick trees, and I’d lose track of him.

I knew where the spring was, but I also knew if I didn’t keep up with him he’d grow irate with me. He’d not do anything right now, since father was expecting me, but he’d definitely yell at me. And that yelling could turn into a beating later if he remembered the annoyance I had been.

Hurrying up, I kept pace with my brother. It wasn’t too difficult. During the night even we had to tread carefully here in this forest, especially so beyond our home’s borders. The forest was thick, and the underbrush full of dark roots that even our eyes struggled to see. There were also creatures that lived here which even we needed to be weary of, so sometimes we had to move slowly and carefully.

The only ones who didn’t need to outright worry at all over the large bears and beasts were grandfather and my uncle. Even father had to be careful in choosing when and where he fought certain things.

For a good amount of time, the only sound in the forest was my foot falls and my brother’s as we hurried through the brush and grass. Sometimes one of us stepped on a leaf that was a little too dry, or a stick or twig that we hadn’t noticed, but for most of the run we hadn’t been too loud.

We reached what I considered the halfway point to the spring as the sky started to become brighter. The sun hadn’t raised beyond the treetops or the mountain peaks yet, but it was about to.

It was also here that my brother decided to slow to a stop.

“Okay. I’d like to watch you, but grandfather’s rules say everyone hunts their first prey alone,” brother said as he turned to me.

Shifting on a heel, I frowned at him. “I’ve hunted before, brother?” I reminded him carefully.

He smirked, showing white fangs that gleamed in the dawn. “Not these you haven’t.”

“What are they?” I asked. Maybe since he seemed to be amused he’d be willing to tell me.

“Creatures that can be either weak or terrifying and dangerous,” he said honestly.

Weak or terrifying…? Maybe he meant depending on when, or where, you hunted them. Maybe I’d need to lay traps or something.

“How many have you hunted?” I asked, further trying to get information out of him. Hopefully if I tried to phrase it in a way that tugged on his honor and pride he’d tell me.

“Only three. My first was a full grown male. He’s the one who took this piece,” brother pointed up at his left ear. Where it was clipped near the top. To the section that was no longer there.

Great. Just great…

Before I could formulate another question, to try and get more out of him, brother gestured towards the path I’d take to find the spring that father was at. “Get going. Father will get angry at me if you don’t get there before the sun fully rises,” he said.

Right.

Nodding I turned away, and picked up my pace as I began to run again.

Leaving my brother behind, I did my best to keep myself calm… and to keep my fears and expectations low.

I didn’t mind hunting. It meant I’d get a larger portion of the meals, when I was the one to catch them. Even when my older siblings, or father, teased or ridiculed me for not doing a good job or something… it was never too harsh. When it came to hunting, their grievances of me were lesser. More maintained.

But what I did hate was failing a hunt. Or getting hurt during one.

I wasn’t as strong as the rest of my family, but I healed as quickly. Yet even though I healed just as fast, I still hated it when I got hurt. I hated the pain. It kept me up at night. It made me want to cry.

And I couldn’t cry.

I’d grown past the point where they’d ignore my sobs and let me weep. I was now too old. Too mature, in their eyes.

This hunt father wanted me to do only further proved that fact.

If I cried they’d only hurt me more.

Tears only gave pain… which gave birth to more tears… which simply resulted in more pain. An endless cycle if one wasn't careful.

Running through the forest as the world started to wake up, as birds began to chirp, I hoped that whatever these… humans… were, they’d be something easy for me.

Some animals were.

If they were easy then I’d not get hurt… and I’d also not have to get yelled at or beaten.

“Please be easy,” I wished again as I hurried.

The faster I got this done, the sooner I’d be able to return and help my little sister bury that bird.

And go back to making my bowls.

I really hope I don’t fail or get hurt. It’d be so hard to work on those stones if my fingers or hands got broken again.

Especially since most of them just finished healing, too.