I sailed down the coast, feeling more free than I had in a long, long time.My first time heading out into the open waters in my kayak had been a small taste of that freedom, as was each subsequent fishing trip, but each of those ended with a return to camp and the rules of my tribe. That had always felt a bit stifling, but once it was directly measured against the freedom of paddling or sailing away, it soon became a weight I couldn’t shake off.Until now, I thought with glee.There would be no returning to my tribe this time. That meant I was all on my own, and would need to provide for myself without the help of others, but I had spent years learning from the grandmothers while improving my boat designs, and had managed to get together enough tools, resources, and know-how to ensure I wouldn’t immediately fail in my freedom.As the wind shifted and the boat slowed, I leaned back and closed my eyes. I could paddle—it wasn’t that large of a boat—but I was in no rush.While I waited for the winds to pick back up, I considered my growth over the past few years.I had finally matured enough to start really pushing my physical training again, taking my six-limbed modified calisthenics to the next level. I was also able to start incorporating weights, to some degree, into my training. Mostly, these were just boulders which I carefully and painstakingly carved handles into, or smoothed and rounded off and used like Atlas stones.Like the boats, some of the newly Bloodied boys—and even some of the grown tribesmen—grew interested in my proto-gym and fitness training, which I was happy to share. I had much rather seen the adolescents compete in physical strength and lifting rather than fight to the death for Blood. This was another reason formal challenges between boys had been on the decline before I left; the boys started building a relationship in their training and competitions, which made it hard for them to turn (...)