“The boys' beds I'll surrender, but not yours – though you be elsewhere, it breeds scandal. Be gracious,” Father warned them. “They shouldn't complain of us.”
Ajhinaš, ever-dignified, obeyed; Šuraš and Ihna'a strove to match their mother. But Ba-a-šuvon, their second, surly brother, complained: “What's Harad to me? I wasn't born under that Sun!”
Father struck him. “I was, so I love my duty.”