Eleven

That earns a grin, and Eleven turns to focus on the new boulder. It's close enough to the same size, and when she lifts it, sand falls from a deep crevice in it. It rains down into the hole left behind in the ground. She lifts one hand to stabilize her focus.

She bites her lip, and starts bobbing the rock up and down in the air. Like the suicide drills she sees football players at school do, the arcs get farther and farther apart, until she has to tighten them back up again or else risk the rock hitting the ground.

It feels like an exercise in finer control, and she likes that, too.