“I also don’t have any doubts.” Feng’s automatic translator had a rare trip-up on this phrase. Of course, it escaped Feng’s notice, because his phone presented the entire conversation to him in his native Mandarin. But the translator snapped back to fluid North American slang for his clanmates before Feng spoke again. “Clan:LESS for life. You guys always had my back. Even when no one else did, not even my parents.”

“That’s right, man. Brothers for life,” the Behemoth said as they all fist-bumped. “Now let’s go again.” He rolled onto his back like a dog waiting for a belly rub.

Feng stood and cartwheeled over his outstretched legs. They were off sparring again.

CHAPTER 11

Bugz and Waawaate were sprawled out on a couch in their parents’ living room. They shared the warmth of a Pendleton blanket as they scrolled through their phones, TV droning on in the background, neglected. Their house, though bigger than most, shared the same linoleum flooring as most others on the Rez. It smelled of cedar and home cooking. Braised meat, in particular.

Bugz’s dad shouted from the kitchen, where he examined a moose roast bathing in a slow cooker. “You guys get off those things. Supper’s almost ready.”

Bugz and Waawaate exchanged glances, silently agreeing to ignore their father. After scrolling for another five minutes, their mother appeared in the living room.

“C’mon, kids, don’t be like that. Your dad said supper’s ready.” Their mom did her best to look serious.

“You don’t be like that!” Waawaate mocked in a high-pitched voice, waving his finger with exaggeration to provoke his mother. Bugz giggled.

Their mom cracked a smile. “Seriously, though, let’s eat.”

“Can we just bring it in here?” Waawaate stood stiffly. Bugz noticed him stutter-step as though he’d stubbed his toe. She thought of his hip and the pow-wow.

“No, your dad worked hard on this dinner. He got the animal himself, but we’re going to eat it together,” their mom responded.

“Correction,” Waawaate smiled. “The animal gave himself to us. That’s what the Elders say. All Dad did was show up in the right place at the right time.”

Their dad laughed genuinely. “Come in the bush with me next time and we’ll see how easy you say it is after that.”

“Must be. You did it.” Waawaate grinned back at his father and threw his arm around his shoulder.

“Get the bowls, Survivor Man,” their dad responded.

Bugz, with bowls already in hand, stepped closer to her father and brother. She basked in the family love as her dad ladled out the stew. Steam rose and clouded the glass surface of the phone she’d pulled from her pocket.

“Jeez, Buggy, can you put that thing away for two seconds?” her mother asked from the kitchen table.