She was supposed to be a boy.
It wasn’t the world’s most cheerful or productive thought, and it didn’t make her knife any sharper. Still, it kept her company while she honed the blade, and it blocked out any worrisome thoughts about the task ahead.
Mama had joked about it every time the girl came home bloody from a fight, with or without prey. “You, sweet thing,” she chuckled, “were supposed to be a boy.” And then she’d strip whatever food her tomboy daughter had managed to wrestle away from the other hunter-scavengers and make them a passable feast.
The men didn’t find it at all funny though, especially when their boys came home black-eyed and bruised from…
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