AS USUAL, THE other kids wanted to meet at the statue of her father. It was located at the edge of their village and made a great base for games of hide and seek. Deeyah found it mildly annoying. Though she was very proud to be the daughter of a renowned hero—slayer of Caldonyia the ice dragon, the man who’d held Baruk’s Pass for three days and three nights—sometimes she could do without the constant reminder.
It was a lot to live up to.
The others had already gathered, and she sprinted out to them. Long, matted locks of hair streamed behind her as she ran, and beads of sweat adorned her dark skin.
Sarif—the largest and loudest of the boys—watched her approach with a sly smile. He loved making jokes at other people’s expense, and Deeyah was his favorite target. When she reached them, he made a show of slowly looking back and forth between her and the statue.
“I bet your father wished
