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oldest.”
    He turned quickly and stepped outside the rock shelter. He stole a look at the sky and swallowed a groan. Almost dusk. Damn Aima and her stupid escapades. Yet she had never stayed out so late before.
    Jun adjusted his armor again, wincing as it chafed against the welts it had caused on his upper arms and his back. He had glued a patch on his left shoulder where the armor had split. It still held.
    He shook his head to clear it, and his dark hair whipped his face. Right . No two ways about it. Got to find Aima .
    He strode down the well-worn, winding path toward the pond.
    The dunes crawled with Shell People returning to their dens in the shelters that formed black mouths in the vertical rock surface. The tide of clickety-click sounds washed over Jun along with the rustling of the rushes in the timid breeze.
    They passed him by, men, women and children in black, white, grey, blue shell armors, dashes of green, spirals on the shoulders and helms with sharp projections on their elbows and swirls of yellow on the tailbones.
    A light grey young man, his armor dusted with brilliant green rays, waved at him. Bless Ras, properly called Stone Grey; he was not as arrogant as his clan warranted. Trust him to ignore the social rules and greet a member of the Stray Clan as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
    He waved back and trudged in the opposite direction, toward the pond, heart already thumping.
    Jun ducked underneath a low branch and jumped over a hole in the ground. He rounded a bend of the trail and halted, fell a step back, peeking between the blades of a grass plant.
    A fight.
    Jun’s hooks rose on his backbone, grasping his armor tighter with excitement. The Shell people had found an empty armor, and just his size from the looks of it. Remnants of an old battle, the shell armors had been used to near depletion, but from time to time another one turned up, pushed up to the surface of the earth by worms and moles.
    The welts from the friction of the armor on his arms, shoulders and back all but drove Jun crazy. The idea of having one that actually fit pulled him forward. Aima would be fine for a while longer, had to be. This was a chance not likely to come up again soon.
    A great one, a Spiked One, stood at the side, and Jun paused and eyed him warily, but he seemed to be keeping out of the fight.
    Jun ran headlong into the broil, smashing into others, blows and curses falling on him. He returned them with equal fierceness, pushing into the eye of the fight. He let out an ululating cry and dove into the melee, raining punches and kicks.
    A blow landed on his shoulder and he heard a crack. Cursing he felt for the patch there. Gone . Second hand armor, crappy patch. Lizardshit .
    All the more reason to win this new armor. He had to take it now, before anyone hooked it on.
    With a cry of rage he pushed and dragged a black-and-white one off a green and took his place, then reached with both hands and pulled himself beside the empty armor. He punched a blue in the face, crushing its nose. Blood spurted across Jun's chest. A grey launched herself at him. He cartwheeled to the side and successfully avoided her. He landed behind the empty armor, grunted as he fell on one knee, straightened painfully and fought his way around.
    Damn . They were all younger than he was, their faces still bearing the dots of childhood, though just as tall and wide as he was. Living in the Stray Clan was not easy, no protectors, no providers of food. He was too small for his age.
    Growling, he tripped up an oncoming dark blue and elbowed hard another coming from behind. Between the tangle of limbs and the spurting blood, the empty Shell armor loomed magnificent, sky-blue with streaks of grass green and marigold yellow.
    Beautiful.
    The hooks on his backbone clenched again in anticipation. He fought the urge to throw his armor off him and fight unrestrained for the new one.
    Bad idea.
    He turned and bent, taking the brunt of a tall