The most interesting thing that ever happened in the Village of the Springs was when the Slayers came to catch fire lizards for Keiba. Or at least that was Suna's opinion. All the other days of the rest of the year were full of the same old stuff: gossip and small talk and visiting the hot springs for even more gossip and small talk.

Suna hated it.

But today — well. Today was Slayer Day. Not that anyone else called it that; it was Suna's secret name for the one day a year when strangers from the world beyond the island of Tephra came to the village. Sure, sometimes merchants from the city came to visit the village and hawk their wares, but their lives and their work didn't interest Suna nearly as much. Other Tephrans were still...well. Tephrans.

The Slayers, though, came from somewhere else. And they traveled all over, hunting sea monsters and seeing the world. It seemed wonderful beyond Suna's wildest dreams.

So while other villagers — including Suna's parents — stood in the town square whispering among each other at the sight of the Slayers' arrival, Suna looked on with interest at the three newcomers. 

I don't know why she always invites them. Everyone knows they only care about killing sea monsters — any 'help' they give is never in our best interest.

They're more trouble than they're worth. Nacirema just wants to consolidate power. When was the last time you ever heard of the Slayers actually helping anyone?

We should remind Keiba that no one wants them here at all. She doesn't get the only say.

Suna always rolled their eyes at the whispered remarks.

They rocked from foot to foot, trying to get a better look at the newcomers without catching their mother's attention. One of their mother's friends sniffed in disapproval at the sight of Keiba crossing the square to greet the strangers.

Suna could never understand the adults' general resentment for the Slayers — or for any outsiders, really. It seemed so small-minded.

Maybe because of this, Suna chose to spend their free time poking through books and magazines in Keiba's shop. Keiba was the local innkeeper and manager of the village's greatest landmark: the hot springs. She and her husband Zale looked after both with scrupulous, dedicated care. Suna never liked the baths themselves — like everything else in the village, they were hot, smothering, and painfully boring — but Keiba also managed a small library of old printed media in the exit shop of the inn. That shop was Suna's favorite place in the whole village, full as it was of maps and books that promised there was so much world to see out beyond the village walls.

They watched the Slayers talk to Keiba and wondered which of the constellation of islands these strangers had come from. Somewhere in the Searing Sea, probably — but maybe as far as Nacirema! Did the Slayers travel in regular boats like everyone else? Did they get different ships depending on how far they had to go? Suna decided they'd have to look through Keiba's books and magazines to see if there was an answer to these things.

"Well," their mother remarked to her friend. "They'll be gone just as soon as they see to Keiba's springs."

"Not soon enough for me."

"I know." Their mother sounded sympathetic. "Try not to let it get to you. They'll clean the baths and then be gone."

"It's just the principle of what they do, though. They don't belong here."

The complaints washed over Suna. They glanced at their mother and her friend. Caught up in conversation, it was like the pair of women had fully forgotten Suna existed.

All be better, really.

Suna edged away from their mother's side in tiny increments, balancing on the balls of their feet in an attempt to make as little noise as possible. If they had to stand here in the beating sun, they may as well make the best of it and try to see the Slayers up close while they had the chance.

As they drew closer, they saw that one of the Slayers in particular was talking to Keiba. He looked much older than the other two — an adult, almost. Dressed all in black, his uniform made him look sharp, like a blade. Suna wondered how he wasn't sweltering in the heat.

Behind him, two younger Slayers glanced around. A boy, who appeared to take in everything with interest, and a sort of sulky-looking girl, who slouched a little bit. Or wilted, maybe. She and the boy both glistened with perspiration — so much so that the collars of their tan uniforms had gone dark and damp.

The closer Suna got, the better they could hear the sound of Keiba's voice. And the older Slayer's. His words lilted with a faint accent that only made Suna itch with more curiosity. Maybe Keiba would tell them where these people were from later. Unlike most of the other adults on the island, Keiba sometimes humored Suna's incessant questions about the world. Or, if she couldn't answer them, she would let them pour through the books in her shop until they found (or gave up on) the information they were looking for.

It was because of those books that Suna was sure the Slayers must all have exciting lives. They got to travel all over, after all. What could be more exciting than that?

They crept closer, hoping to hear the conversation more clearly, when a hand landed on their shoulder.

"There you are." Their father's voice. "Suna, honestly. Stay with your mother. How many times do we have to tell you?"

Suna's heart sank.

With sturdy hands, he steered them around, pushing them back towards the junction of the main square. Suna craned their neck to glimpse the Slayers again, but their father's torso occluded most of their view.

"Here she is," their father called as he and Suna reached one of the roads branching off of the town square.

Suna bristled a bit at the she, but there wasn't much to say about it. They had tried, once, in the best way they knew how; confessing to their mother that they didn't like having long hair. At the time, they'd harbored in their heart a small glow of hope that maybe their mother would let them shear their hair off, just to see what it felt like.

Instead, she waved a hand and said, You'll learn to work with it. I get annoyed with long hair too, sometimes — and a small knot of frustration formed between Suna's lungs. That's not what they meant, and they tried to explain that they just wanted to cut it. Just as an experiment! An annoyed look clouded their mother's face.

Suna, stop whining. We're not cutting your hair.

And just like that, the little bulb of hopeful light snuffed out.

Right now, their mother's face pinched with that same look of annoyance as Suna and their father approached. She stood at the mouth of the road with her arms crossed. It made Suna feel itchy and anxious.

"Suna," she frowned. "Are you trying to kill me with worry?"

Suna hunched in on themselves a little. "I was just trying to see—"

"You don't need to see" their mother clipped, taking their hand. She tugged them away from their father and led them down the road with him in tow.

Suna's ears got hot with the weird sting of humiliation at being treated like a baby who couldn't be trusted to walk around by themselves.

"The Slayers aren't anything to think about," their father added, his voice calm.

Then why is everyone so angry about them all the time? Suna wondered, but they kept the question to themselves. Their mother was holding their hand tightly enough as it was — they didn't want to get into a losing argument.

And it really would be an argument. They knew what their mother would say: the Slayers were outsiders. They spent all their time killing sea monsters when they should have some reverence, or at least respect for them. No one was threatened by monsters anymore, so what gave Slayers the right to travel around just bothering people who didn't want to be bothered? Everyone would be better off if the Slayers just left people alone.

Except Suna couldn't believe that last part. If the Slayers never came to the Village of the Springs, everything would be the same always. Their presence, at least, gave Suna hope that there was more to the big wide world than baths and gossip. And anyway, No one in the Village of the Springs had ever even seen a sea monster, no matter how much they insisted that the great, cancrine monster called Yura was asleep somewhere beneath the hot springs, keeping their water steamy and warm.

It just all seemed so ridiculous to Suna. How could so many people be mad about what the Slayers when all they did was chase fire lizards out of the baths? No one wanted those lizards there anyway. It was like the idea of the Slayers bothered people more than the reality of them, somehow.

They fumed a little, tugged along by their mother. All these thoughts only soured their mood further. And they were going to the hot springs to boot — a place Suna couldn't want to visit less. But on they marched.

Halfway to Keiba's inn, they passed the Black Susans' workshop; the big doors of the shop were thrown open and the forges glared violent red and yellow inside, the forms of them wavering in the heatshimmer. A few women stood at the workbenches just inside, their arms and shoulders roped with muscle as they worked bright hot iron into glowing arabesques.

For one moment, Suna's mother seemed to forget that she was annoyed.

"That'll be you soon," she said to Suna as they passed by, sounding proud.

A tall bucket full of cool water hissed as one of the Black Susans submerged some elegant feat of smithery to cool its shape into place. Almost no outsiders were welcome in the Village of the Springs, but Suna knew — as their mother always liked to remind them — that the Black Susans' metalwork was renowned all the way to Nacirema.

It's one of Tephra's greatest products, their mother liked to say. She herself had been a Black Susan once; it was a rite of passage for all women in the village.

But Suna didn't care at all about becoming a Black Susan. The thought of being forced into some predestined career — a predestined career for all of the village's bright young women, as their mother liked to say — left them feeling bitter and resentful.