Pronunciation Guide:
Nne=En-neh
Ach'e=Achey (hard "ch" like "choose")
Kebi=Keh-bee
N'kun=En-kun
Orire N'jem=Oh-ri-reh en-jem
***
Yenni made her decision as she and her cousins slithered through the grass like log snakes, hemming their prey in from all sides.
They would hate her for this.
She pulled energy through her focus rune—a band of white painted across her eyes—and felt it heat her skin as it sharpened her vision. Ahead the n'ne shimmered in the sunlight, the black hair of its haunches flashing blue, then green, then gold. It grazed, its graceful neck bent forward and its tall horns curved and gleaming like blackwood. Four long legs, suited to loping sprints, disappeared into the tall grass. Such a gorgeous animal. Small wonder her cousins wanted to skin it, put its head on display and make a cape of its pelt.
But n'ne were highly intelligent. It was rare to see more than one or two at a time, and the scholars theorized that some n'ne sacrificed themselves to draw predators away from the main herd. In fact, Yenni was certain the creature knew they were there. At any moment it would draw on ach'e, the divine energy that ran through all things, and put on a magical burst of speed to dart away. Small wonder she planned to help it escape.
A bird trilled, high and sweet, and she recognized it as the signal that one of her cousins, or perhaps her younger brother, was in place. Another bird call, and another. They would not attack with fire—that would singe its hide. No, they would chase the poor thing this way and that until they could catch it and someone would snap its neck with their bare hands.
If she let them.
Yenni moved through the grass clumsily, causing it to shake and shiver all around her. The formation was still incomplete.
Run, she thought desperately.
As if it had heard her, the creature took off, its legs glowing with ach'e as it galloped through the tall grass. Yenni flared the speed runes on her thighs and calves, relishing the familiar warmth of energy coursing through her, and shot after it. Two of her cousins jumped up out of the grass. "Weh! Weh!" they shouted, waving their arms. The n'ne zipped right, where her younger brother Jumi kept pace, his runes blazing blue-white on his dark legs. He dove, arms wide to tackle the n'ne, but it slipped free and left him tumbling. Yenni grinned—until she realized the creature now ran right at her. If she scared it, it would turn tail and head straight for her cousin Ade-Ige. He would no doubt catch it and then...
Yenni sprang out of the path of the runaway n'ne, flattening herself to the grass. The ground vibrated as it thundered past and she heard her cousin let out a frustrated curse.
"Mothers and Fathers! It's escaped into the trees, we'll never find it now!"
Standing, Yenni brushed herself off while mentally tensing against the tirade to come. She did feel a small stab of guilt for ruining the hunt, but it was her last trip for a long while to come, and she refused to taint the memory—the pale grass of the plain against the soft blue of the sky—with the tang of the beautiful animal's red blood.
When Yenni looked up the others, all eight of them, stood across from her with their eyes glittering in accusation under their white focus runes.
"Why didn't you chase it toward us?" Ade-Ige demanded. She stood straighter, raising her chin to meet his gaze, saying nothing. But her cousin was too far gone in his irritation to afford her proper respect.
"You let it escape on purpose, didn't you? Probably due to some foolish notion of it being too pretty to kill." He threw up his hands. "This is why I dislike hunting with women!" He kicked at the grass like a petulant child.
"Ah! It wasn't me who let it escape!" cried Ade-Ige's younger sister. She looked like a feminine version of him, right down to the fire in her eyes. "Don't lump us together!" A second later she sent Yenni a frightened glance before fixing her gaze to the ground.
Yenni huffed. It was one thing to bring down a boar for a feast, or defend a village from a pack of emboldened hyenas, but rare and intelligent creatures, especially those that could channel ach'e, had always been Yenni's weakness. Though she loved to encounter such animals in the wild, to stalk and study them, she was loath to kill them.
"Yes, I found it beautiful, as did you, which is why you wanted to capture it."
"And now it's gone!" Ade-Ige shouted. "I don't know who you think you are!"
Her temper flared hot in her face. "I am Yenni Ajani Femi ka Yirba, and you would do well to remember that!"
Ade-Ige and the others bowed their heads, all except her brother, and Yenni winced. She'd promised herself she wouldn't use her title, but her prowess as a tracker to win their respect. But pig-headed Ade-Ige always got under her skin.
"Let's return," she said, and before anyone could answer, she turned and pulled ach'e through her speed runes, dashing toward the white houses of the city and the gold-gleaming palace perched on the top of the hill.
***
Later in the day Yenni sat in her bedroom on a wide reed mat beside her hammock, mixing rune paint. Once it was the right consistency, and the perfect shade of blue-tinged white, she took up her rune brush, dipped the coarse, boar's hair tip in her paint and started the rune for strength on her bicep. As she drew she sang the hymn of strength, and her song infused the paint, making it glow, until she tied the hymn off with a final low note and it set, seeping right into her skin. It would stay there until she used it up.
She nodded in satisfaction and went back to mixing. The prongs of her new blackwood whisk clacked against the shiny matching bowl—a going away present from her older sisters. Blackwood was incredibly hard to come by, but it was best for blending the purest rune paint. Typically only the Masters, in their temples along the coast, had access to the sacred wood. How her sisters had come by the set she had no idea, but the two of them were bright-eyed, sweet-voiced and charming, and tended to get their way more often than not. Yenni had not inherited their same powers of persuasion, but she had been able to sway her parents on the thing that mattered most: tomorrow she would leave for the Empire of Cresh.
Three sharp raps sounded on her door. It had to be a servant, or her older brother Dayo. He was the only member of her family who waited to be invited in.
"Enter!" she called, and frowned at the chalky paint on her fingertips.
Her oldest brother strode into the room, dressed as always in a long, regal kaftan tied around the middle with a thick golden sash, his gold prince's cape over one shoulder. She couldn't understand why he insisted on such formal attire at all times, and in this heat. Yenni preferred her hunting clothes: a simple shift tied over one shoulder, or perhaps a half-shirt and skirt, and her hide sandals.
"How go your preparations, Kebi?" he said, using the informal address for a younger sister.
She smiled and embraced him. "Well, thank you, N'kun," said Yenni, returning his greeting with the term for an older brother.
He frowned at her "Why aren't you dressed?" Dayo ran a hand along his beard, as he always did when he was irritated. "Kebi, could you at least try to look like a daughter of the Chiefclan? This feast is to celebrate your birth, after all."
Yenni sighed. Dayo would make a fine Chieftain once their parents stepped down, if for no other reason than his rigorous observance of propriety.
"I'm sorry, N'kun," she said. "but I just returned from hunting, and I became so caught up in mixing rune paint—"
"Yes, the hunt," her brother said, cutting her off. "I received a complaint from our cousins that you impeded their kill. Again."
She had the grace to look sheepish, but said nothing.
"You are too old to still be hunting, Kebi," he scolded. "Whoever heard of a woman of seventeen—no, eighteen rains still roaming the hills and plains?"
Yenni folded her arms. "I am not married."
"No, and I suspect you intend to remain so. Forever, if you could but...you cannot."
Yenni caught the flicker of concern in her brother's eyes and knew he was referring to their shaky political position. At present, their tribe was the most powerful on the Sha Islands, but their father's health was failing, and with each meeting he missed the wolves within the other tribes sniffed. A political marriage would do much to help them regain their footing.
"You have a duty to strengthen the tribe, Yenni. The same for all of us who bear the name 'ka Yirba.'"
"Then why aren't you married?" she grumped.
He looked at her out of the side of his eye but didn't answer, and she knew she was approaching disrespect. Yenni didn't exactly envy her older brother's position. He was in training to become a general, and besides that he spent more and more time in political meetings with their mother as a stand-in for their father, resolving their people's disputes. But he was only five years older than her, and she knew the other leaders did not yet respect Dayo as they did her father. He would likely be forced into a strategic alliance himself soon.
"Apologies, N'kun," she said, and bowed her head. "But I know I will find a way to cure N'baba abroad, the Sha will guide me. Then perhaps I won't need to—"
But Dayo was shaking his head. "You are all but engaged to Prince Nathi ka Zalu, kebi. How would we explain to them that you don't want to marry their second son? They already believe we look down on them, Yenni. You know a refusal would cause them grave insult."
That was Dayo, ever the strategist, just like their mother. "I see," Yenni said softly, resigned that she would come home to the shackles of responsibility.
"Sending you away for a year is bad enough, but it can't be helped now. Come, I'm going to find our sisters to help you dress. You must look your best tonight."
Yenni grimaced. She must look her best, not because it was her birthday, but because the Zalu Chiefclan would be there.
"Alright, N'kun," she said wearily. "Send them along."