I stand just outside the tent, listening to Father speak. His words are always rough, missing pieces, but I know what he means. When he calls, I step inside. The woman is there, watching us. People always stare when they see me beside him, because I look almost the same as he does, just younger. “Me? Strange woman speaks of knowing of arrival?” Father’s voice is rough, vowels missing, but I understand. He doesn’t even look at her, his body turned halfway, as if he’s talking to someone else outside the tent. He finally faces her, plopping roughly onto the cushion. I watch him closely. He says, “This is me child, he be following me everywhere I go, even if I tell him to leave. I am here for glory, to return to tribe that outcasted me. To show them I am strong and worthy to be in clan. I will gain glory.” I step a little closer, careful, because I want her to see me not just as Father’s shadow, but as someone who belongs here too. “I follow him,” I say softly, “because he fights for what matters. I watch, I learn, and one day I will earn glory too. Not because I am him, but because I am me.” The woman looks at me then, her eyes studying my face. I feel her curiosity, maybe even understanding, and for a moment, I think she sees the spark of something she cannot name. Father’s shadow looms over me, but I am not afraid. I am here. I am learning. One day, I will stand beside him and also claim the glory he fights for.
