Names on Their Tongues

The morning after the mission felt… different.

The tribe buzzed with murmurs. Kaoshi could feel it before she stepped out of the stone house: curiosity, unease, admiration — all threading through the narrow alleys like wind through grass.

Jinling had returned early, setting a bucket of clean water by the door. He looked up as Kaoshi emerged, still drying her hands.

"Some of the guards told others what happened," he said. "It's spreading fast."

Kaoshi didn't reply immediately. She glanced at her children, still asleep in the back room. Their breathing was deep and even, all three piled in a warm mess of limbs.

"They deserve the credit," she said finally. "All of it."

Jinling smiled. "Don't downplay your part. The elder wants to see you."

---

Recognition and Whispers

The central meeting hall of the Black Market Tribe was made of thick-cut stone, its ceiling low enough that taller beastmen had to duck slightly. It smelled of earth and pine resin. Kaoshi stood before the elder and several high-ranking members, including Hong Xi, arms folded behind her back, her expression neutral.

The elder spoke first. "Yesterday, you and your cubs stopped a conflict, stabilized two unknowns, and prevented further injury. Impressive."

"I didn't act alone," she replied. "They were with me the entire time. Every decision I made, they helped carry out."

That earned a few murmurs among the elders. Hong Xi raised an eyebrow. "You believe children—rogue-born—are suited for tasks like this?"

"I don't believe it. I saw it."

A silence stretched for a moment too long before the elder nodded. "Their performance speaks for itself."

Still, the word rogue hovered like smoke in the air. No one said it outright, but Kaoshi could hear it in the careful tones, see it in the sidelong glances: She was not one of them. And yet… she had led.

---

Flashback: Understanding Begins

That afternoon, Kaoshi returned to the holding shelter. The younger beastman—now more subdued—sat beside the older one, who had finally stirred from his sleep. Their bodies were still marked with scars, but they were healing cleanly.

Kaoshi held up a stone and tapped it. "Rock."

Both males tilted their heads. She pointed again. "Rock."

The younger one repeated slowly, "Rah… ock."

She smiled faintly. "Close."

Every day, they repeated names: food, water, hand, fire, tree.

A week ago, they had been snarling. Now, they tried. Eagerly. Not just to mimic, but to understand. Especially the younger one, whose eyes sparkled with growing awareness.

During one session, she pointed to herself and said, "Kaoshi."

The older one stared a long time, then pressed his palm to his chest and said, "Grahn."

She blinked. Then looked to the younger one.

He hesitated… then spoke. "Dohz."

They had names.

They always had.

---

Tension Beneath Smiles

As word of Kaoshi's work spread, more tribe members began bringing her herbs to identify, asking about healing salves, and even inquiring about how to make fire-stirred dishes. A few mothers asked her about the grass backpacks she had made for the cubs.

Not everyone was impressed.

One overheard comment, near the trading circle, stood out:

"An exile shouldn't be teaching our children…"

"She's not even a proper tribe member. Why's she acting like one?"

"She's a guest. A useful guest. That's all."

Kaoshi didn't respond. She hadn't expected praise — and she didn't need it. What mattered were her children.

---

Chaoang, Chow Chow, Chao Lie

Each cub responded differently to the attention.

Chaoang, proud and composed, took it in stride. He listened carefully when hunters spoke to him, sometimes mimicking their stance or grip on spears when they thought he wasn't looking.

Chow Chow stayed close to Kaoshi, but when another child scraped their knee near the well, she rushed over without hesitation, placing her hands over the wound.

"Are you a shaman?" the child's mother asked, startled.

Chow Chow blinked. "I'm just me."

Chao Lie, however, grew more cautious. More… observant. He noticed who stared too long, who spoke too softly when Kaoshi passed. Once, she caught him coiled high up in a tree, watching the main square.

"Just making sure," he said when she asked.

"Of what?"

He looked away. "Things."

---

Mile's Misstep

That evening, while Kaoshi was out checking on Grahn and Dohz, Mile made her move.

Jinling had just finished reinforcing a section of Kaoshi's roof when Mile appeared, wearing a carefully draped piece of sheer animal-hide cloth.

"You've been so busy," she said, her voice honeyed. "Hunting. Repairing. Guarding. You must be tired."

"I'm fine," Jinling said, wary.

"I could help. Keep you company. Ease the weight."

She stepped closer.

Jinling stepped back.

"I know what you're doing," he said plainly. "And it won't work."

Mile frowned. "She's an exile. You think she'll ever be respected here? You deserve someone who belongs."

"I don't care where she came from," he replied. "I know where she's going."

At that moment, two elder females happened to pass by, catching just enough of the exchange. Word spread quickly.

By the next morning, Mile's smile had vanished, replaced by narrowed eyes and stiff posture. Whispers chased her like shadows.

She avoided Kaoshi for most of the day — until dusk.

As Kaoshi gathered herbs near the edge of the tribe with Chow Chow beside her, Mile approached.

She didn't waste time.

"I want him."

Kaoshi glanced up slowly. "Then try."

Mile blinked. "You're not even going to—"

"I won't stop you," Kaoshi said. "But I don't think you'll succeed."

For a moment, Mile's mask cracked. Then she turned and walked away.

Chow Chow tugged on Kaoshi's sleeve. "Mama?"

Kaoshi smiled softly. "Nothing, little one. Let's finish up."

---

System Silence, for Now

That night, after the cubs had gone to sleep, Kaoshi finally opened the System Mall window in her mind. It shimmered like firelight against shadow.

Most items required more points than she had. But a few low-level tools — improved needles, portable fire kits, something called a "spice box" — were within range.

She didn't redeem anything.

Not yet.

Her gaze drifted to the "Fusion Preview System" tab. Locked behind an ominous silver sigil.

Soon, but not yet.

She closed the interface and turned toward the sound of soft breathing behind her. The cubs were all curled up together.

Safe.

For now.