The Nameless Warrior

The Naming Ceremony

Kindra stepped out of the tent into a cacophony of celebration around the central fire circle. Warriors and their families milled about in small groups, chatting and drinking wine. The still-bloody marks of the inductees were lost in the sea of ash-darkened scars and beaded ceremonial shirts of the Eoin-named warriors.

A voice rose from the din nearby. "To the Odion Warrior!" Half of the crowd turned her way and cheered, their cups held up in salute. She froze, her gaze sweeping over them in surprise, before her mother gently shoved her into the fray.

People she'd never spoken to, who'd never given her so much as a second glance before, congratulated her as she walked through the crowd, trying to find an island of calm. She heard Gar's familiar laugh and made a beeline towards his small group.

"We can trust Cameron Bardel," she overheard Monkey Preston, Gar's best friend, say as she neared. "I do believe he has a little crush on Kindra." Monk winked at her. Kindra flushed as warm as the lacerations on her back.

"Cameron doesn't have a crush..." she began, but the look Gar shot Monk stopped her. It was a look she didn't know. A secret look. She thought she knew all Gar's looks.

He elbowed Monk in the ribs. "Hush."

Before Kindra could wonder what that meant, Petoskey Preston, second to the chief, bowed his head and touched two fingers to his brow. "Warrior Odion."

Gar grabbed his arm and Petoskey's head snapped up, a challenge in his eyes, until they landed on the younger warrior. To Kindra's surprise, he acquiesced.

Gar's eyes beamed with pride as he turned to her. He bowed, touched his fingers to his brow as Petoskey had, then pressed them to her forehead. "Warrior Odion." His voice sounded almost reverential.

Kindra closed her eyes as his fingers lingered, warm against her skin. This was no normal congratulations—he was transferring his allegiance from her father to her. The weight of it settled over her like a mantle. When she finally looked at him she nodded, throat too tight to speak.

Petoskey did the same, then Wolf. Monk kissed the tips of his fingers and tapped her forehead. "Bride of Eoin." He winked again.

Kindra's gaze sailed towards the sky. "Spawn of the Obsidians," she mumbled in return. Monk laughed and tussled her hair. She ducked, but pain ripped through her back and she grunted.

"Careful." Gar grabbed a rag that was already smeared with a corner of blood from his pocket. "Don't move too fast for the next week or you'll re-open the mark."

She sucked in a breath as the rough fabric stung the wounds. "You sound like Kaye."

"Kaye's treated most of my wounds."

Kindra craned her neck, trying in vain to see the mark. "What does it look like?"

Monkey grinned. "Blood."

Her gaze found the clouds again while Gar chuckled, the cloth still pressed to her back. When the cool autumn air kissed her skin she almost shivered.

"I can't tell," Gar frowned. "Adder perhaps? It looks like it could be snakes."

"No," Monk said. "Worms."

Kindra snorted. "It'll probably be something stupid and weak. Like Squirrel."

"Or Sow," Monk said.

"Doe," Gar added with another chuckle.

"Perhaps it says Bride of Eoin, and your nickname is true."

They all turned at Kaye's soft voice. Her priestess dress shimmered with silver thread and glass beads, making her translucent wings seem a trick of the light. Kindra had only seen Kaye use them once—they wrapped around her back like a cape, and when she became excited they fluttered. Kindra hadn't seen them flutter since their father died.