Nivra held her hand up against the sun as they reached the plateau, coming out from the forest that led back to Trobonne. The Tribune priest waved to the group, the clearing already had a small camp set up. The other kaihand smiled and exclaimed amongst themselves, they were all boys, she had recognized one of them but kept to herself. She too was excited to participate in the cave trial, having prepared with her brother for the last few weeks. After this they would all receive their tattoos and descend the mountain as aseshand, as adults; she knew what else awaited her when she returned, but she told herself she would not think of that until she was back.

The priest and his had a meal ready for them, a small portion of stew, some berries and a water he said had been infused with flowers from the mountainside. They all put down their packs and sat on them to eat. He went over the details of the trial, which she had already known from her brother doing it a few years ago. After they had ate, they were given the ceremonial garments to change into. The jecth escorted her to one of the small tents to change out of sight.

Nivra took off her clothes and put them into her pack, switching to the skirt they had given her. It was plain like the tents, stained in a few spots. The weave was neat and the trim along the bottom had a pattern of the Tribune, but it felt rough against her skin, hanging right above her knee. The jecth held a similarly designed robe out to her.

“Girls are allowed to wear a robe.”

“No,” Nivra said, “I will do it right.”

“It’ll keep you warmer.”

She stayed silent for a moment. “That’s fine.”

She stepped out of the tent, the priest and the boys had gathered around in a circle. One of the taller boys glared at her as she approached and joined the circle. The priest got them all to hold hands and he prayed to the Tribune to watch over them as they completed their Trial. Nivra felt a warm glow flow through her body. 

In pairs, the jecth would escort them up the trail to where the caves were. As the rest sat and waited their turn, the priest’s acolyte spoke about Devadas and honouring the ancestors, he kept faltering and eventually turned to reading from his notebook directly. The last pair of boys left, leaving Nivra waiting.

“Last usually means the highest up,” the acolyte said.

Nivra knew what that meant, colder, less things growing. It was going to be difficult. 

The jecth came back, taking Nivra up the mountain. The path was steep on the other side of the plateau, it looked like little steps had grown out of the stone. They came to a somewhat open spot and the jecth paused for a moment, looking at Nivra. He then continued, the path got quite narrow, there was one part they had to walk sideways. She had to grab onto the rock as a gust of wind surged by, she looked down, there would be nowhere to land for a while.

The climb had continued, the light grew to warmer tones and cast longer shadows. Nivra felt like this was taking longer than when he had left with the last boys and come back. They came to another little plateau and he stopped.

“Don’t try to come down on your own in the dark, I’ve taken you up a different path than the boys.” He paused and shook his head, then pointed. “There’s a cave that way. I’ll be back up the morning after the next.”

He bowed and headed back down. Nivra walked toward the way he pointed, scanning the area. Compared to what her brother had hoped, she wasn’t put in a lower area. She’d had to quickly find things to last the night, she couldn’t see much deadwood around, there was only one tree and some bushes, not great. The cave had a large opening but it was sunken, as she knelt inside it was at least not catching the wind. Nivra closed her eyes for a bit and held her hands at the side of her head to block out the light from behind. After a few minutes, she opened them up and walked crouched slowly inside. Her brother had told her to do this, and she remembered her older sister mentioning it before she got married and left home; their grandfather had told them also. She thought of him and something that the acolyte had said earlier, that their ancestors would be helping them in ways they might not even think of. She asked Eredaugus to thank her grandfather for teaching them. Inside the cave was not so deep, as it came to a narrow hole. She tried to looking inside but no amount of waiting for the eyes to attune to the cave would let her in total darkness. 

Back outside, Nivra used a stone to break some of the lower branches off of the evergreen tree, and gathered what deadwood, twigs and dried up leaves and small debris she could and carried it back inside. With the last light of the day, she began to make a fire like she had been taught. It took a long time, the light had completely gone away before she made any progress. Her hands were sore and she tried not to think of the darkness around her but she kept working. Eventually she began to smell it was working and transferred what she hoped were the tiny embers into her pile of tiny debris. With gentle breaths, she could see  red flare up in the dark. She smiled to herself and kept blowing until she saw a tiny flame emerge through the pile.

Nivra slowly added the twigs and bigger pieces of wood. She knew didn’t have enough to burn, so she gathered some stones and laid them around the fire. With the small light going, she stood by the entrance with her arms crossed. It was mid summer, still too early in the night to see the Shaman, but Eur was half full and his little brother was just a small crescent. A small breeze came by making Nivra shiver and she retreated back to the fire. She knelt down and prostrated before sitting back up. She sighed.

“Eredaugus, thank you for letting my ancestors be with me, I will do my best to serve my family. Zacsoth, thank you for this last rite of my kaihand to prepare me for my aseshand. Devadas, please guide me in being filial to my parents.”

She prostrated again, staying down this time.

“I am reluctant to return down the mountain. I do not want to move away from my parents and my brother. I lemented when my sister married and moved to the other side of Trobonne. It seemed so far away, only being able to see her once a week. I am not ready for this change.”

Sitting up and looking at the fire, she listened to the crackling, the sound of the wind outside the cave. Nivra looked up and let out a single loud, long cry until her voice ran out. She tried speaking a few times but couldn’t find the words she wanted to say. Not that it mattered, the Tribune would not help her escape her fate, for that would go against everything.

Her hands and back ached. She put what wood she had left onto the fire and carefully rolled one of the stones away. She put her feet next to it as she laid down close to the fire. Her back still felt cold, but she felt warm enough. Tears rolled down her face as she closed her eyes.

When she opened her eyes again, the fire had died down, but the stones were still warm. She propped herself up on her arm and saw some small coals inside still burning. She sighed again and laid back down, turning her head to look outside. The stars were shining, the depressed angle of the cave let her see the bottom of Icus’s crescent. She moved closer to the stones now that they weren’t hot to the touch and tried to sleep again.

—-

This time she woke and her body rumbled. She left the cave and poked around the bushes that were nearby. Bright berries stood out in the dim light of the morning, Nivra was tempted to eat them but she knew these were the ones that poisoned a boy last year. She held her stomach as she continued to explore the plateau. The opposite way of the cave and the path the jecth led them up by, there was another little pathway, she followed it, having to squeeze through a crevice which came to a steep face. There was at least more things growing here and the light of the morning sun hitting the area. 

Nivra treaded carefully along the loose rock towards some leafy plants. Her brother had told her the name once, but she could not remember, Old hen’s ear or something like that. She spat out the first bite, it needed to be cooked. Usually they cooked it for an hour over meat being braised. With small bites at first, she forced herself to eat all she could. What she shouldn’t she carried in the skirt buy tying it up.

Moving to get back up, the rocks under her feet shifted and she felt backwards. Rolling down the hill, she tried grabbing onto something, but it was just a loose rock. She spread her feet out and tried digging the rock in. Nothing caught but she managed to stop herself rolling and skid down a little bit more before slowing to a stop. Her knot for carrying the food had broken off and the skirt was torn. Nivra laid with legs and arms spread out and eyes closed.

After a few breaths, or maybe many, she opened her eyes and looked down. She had only gone about half way down, but if she slipped again, she’d find herself at the edge. Slowly she shuffled backwards, keeping her back planted against the ground. Whenever she felt some rocks moving, she would stop for a few minutes. Eventually she made her way back up to the narrow pass and back to the cave.

As she sat on the cold stone with a small fire in front of her and a small breeze behind, her thoughts kept going to what she did not what to think about. She did not want to think about the robe her mother had made for her. Not to think about the circlet her grandmother had given her. The cloak her father had given her. The small ring her sister brought. The hairpin from her brother. She did not want to think about any of these but she could help herself. 

She thought of herself in her robe, wearing the circlet and the ring, the pin in her hair. It tied up the way her mother had done for her sister’s wedding. She thought of standing in front of the crowd, the priest before her. The bands.

A memory came up from one night long ago when she was still a kei. She woke up in the middle of the night and wandered downstairs looking for her mother. She saw her sitting on the ground, crying. Her father standing over her, his face in his hands, his own body trembling. Her mother threw one of her bands at him saying, “I might as well be bound by Markirrten than by Devedas.”

It was not until she was to reiceve her Mark and become kai that she learnt what it meant. Her brother mentioned Makirrten to her, he was the god of conquest and slavery. It had made her think of her mother in a different way. Since then she had been fearing what was to come. She had feared for her sister, but every week her sister said she was happy. When her mother gave them the news that they had arranged for Nivra to marry, her sister said she was lucky he was the same age as her. Both her and her mother were married to a tarwan when they were asesh. They both said she was going to be happy. 

But Nivra knew her sister was lying every week. She knew how her mother truly felt.

Nivra sighed and tossed another branch into the fire. Her father had told her when she came back from visiting her sister with her mother a while back that she would be marrying with an important clan. They came from the Gartem mountains, on the other side of the Gnahi basin. They were tied to the Paesja House, this was important to him. To the clan. Her husband was to complete his asesh trial and come over to Trobonne to marry her a month after. His name was Hochir Dramoin, born under the Warrior like her. They should get along, the Warrior knew to be filial to his parents and ancestors.

She thought of what he may look like. She thought of the boys she came up the mountain with, she didn’t think she would want to marry any of them, but really, she hadn’t thought that about any boy. One time she mentioned the vai at dinner, both her father and mother condemned them, saying, “not every woman could be Gaumoinwyn, the vaihand just abandon their family’s needs for their own wants.” 

Nivra hadn’t brought it up again. Afterwards her brother asked if she wanted to learn how to fight, but it would have to be a secret. They would meet with one of his friends and practice. They had started using staves to fight and were going to start practicing with knives, but once it was announced she was going to be married, they could never get away.

Feeling hungry again, she went out in search of anything else she could eat. Only more leaves, some she wasn’t sure about but they did not taste any worse. She took a few trips to collect what wood there was, slowly feeding the fire through the day. Once night came, she started to build it bigger and made her circle of stones wider, shaped like a crescent on one side so she could rest there. Putting all the wood in she had before she tried to sleep.

She woke late in the night again. This night and the last, the Lantern had not given her any dreams. She wondered if he was having trouble finding her so far away from home in the mountains; would she still have dreams when she moved across the desert? Sanberaht was Infinite, so a priest once told her. The trial was about surviving alone, in a sense, maybe her ancestors were watching but they weren’t helping, maybe Sanberaht had nothing to show her that she wasn’t already thinking. She shut her eyes again and prayed, “Lantern guide me.”

—

Opening her eyes, a small bird had landed at the entrance of the cave, it pecked at the ground and then looked at her. It was bright, its face and the stripes on its wing were a darker colour. Nirva stood up and the bird moved away from the cave. She followed it, having to run as it flew off. It came to the plateau’s edge and she watched it as it flew down, moving back and forth between the trees. Once it was out of sight, she went and sat back at the entrance of the cave to wait.

By midmorning, the jecth came back to get her. He said she was last to come back and that the next stage of the rite would happen when they were back. The walk was easier this time. When they came back to the camp, the boys were standing in a circle, the priest and other jecth sitting next to an altar they had set up. The priest gave her a look when she joined the circle, but she ignored whatever he was trying to nod at.

“Now that we’re all back, we’ll begin.” The priest said, as he walked around the circle. “Today is an auspicious day, we have a traveling inkmaster here, Faskil, he is known across the Houses.”

“The last down the mountain,” a voice yelled from the tent, “the first I’ll see, send the girl.”

The priest had a surprised look on his face then looked at Nivra, “you heard him, in you go.”

The other jecth opened the tent so she could enter. Inside it was warm and smelled like flowers, there was a low table and a chair next to it. A strange looking man with his hair weaved in a pattern she hadn’t seen before, robes in layers of different colors without any sleeves. It made her notice a large cloak hung up that was embroidered with intricate patterns. Behind the man was a chest with a wide assortment of tools and instruments sticking out of it.

“I’m Tser Nivra.” She said, placing her left fist in her right hand and bowing.

He raised his hands the same and nodded his head, “I am Faskil.”

He waved his hands over the table, “come sit, usually those in the Tulate Mountains have their clan or the Tribune as their tattoo, but have you ever thought of what you wanted?”

She came over and sat on the table. “I’m not sure.”

He leaned over to look at her back, “your mark is large.”

“An asesh initiate was helping the priest and accidently knocked the whole pedestal of coals and stones over, the priest had said I got the days worth of marks.”

Faskil scoffed, “and all the pain to go with it.”

She nodded. “The priest said you travel everywhere, what is it like?”

“It is on the road where I feel best,” he said, “Nagarire is my patron.  I have been to all the regions under the Houses, met many people, fought many people. It is not an easy life.”

“Do you see a lot of birds? I like watching them as they fly around, going wherever they want.”

“I have seen many birds, all different kinds.”

“Can you do some, flying across my back?”

He touched her back, “it will hurt my kai, your back is mostly scarred.”

“I will be okay.”

“Lie down on the table then.”

Nivra lay down, Faskil gave her a small pillow to rest her head and began to work. She could feel every jab of the needle, the parts that were not over her mark almost seemed like a relief. She kept her eyes closed and focused on the smell of the flowers. The pain turned into a rhythm as the inkmaster worked, darting between her back and his tools. 

Faskil had stopped and wiped her back with something soothing. He said, “You did great, Nivra. I bet you will hear all the boys out there whine and cry when I do theirs.”

Nivra had sat up, Faskil handed her a small cloth.

“Wipe your eyes before you go out, don’t let them see you as they want to think you are.”

She took the cloth from him. “What do you mean?”

“I think you know,” he said before standing up and leaning close, “if I tell you a secret, will you keep it? Gudrantas bind our knowledge together.”

Nivra nodded, “we’ll keep haven in the Veil.”

Faskil smiled, “I am vaihand.”

She looked up at him – them, she couldn’t tell. “You look like a man.”

“For they think I am, it privileges my reputation, the Tribune distains us, I could not do my craft if it was revealed. They will always try to make us feel small and weak, don’t let them see you that way.”

“I wish I could be vai but I am to be married when I return down the mountain.”

“Then you must make your husband serve you and not the other way around. When you have children, make sure they respect you. Teach your daughters to be strong like you, teach your sons to not heed arrogance and respect their sisters.”

Nivra nodded, unsure what to say. Faskil smiled and stood up, shouting “come.”

The jecth came, giving her a ceremonial sash. She adorned it before going outside, taking one look back at Faskil who nodded.

She stood where she had been, the next kaihand went in. One by one, they had gone in and come out. Like Faskil had predicted, a few had whined and cried when receiving their tattoo. The priest, acolyte and the jecth prepared their feast throughout the day. She grew hungrier as the food cooked and became more fragrant. When the last boy, who had been whispering things to the others while giving bad looks to Nivra, had gone in, the priest had begun preparing the altar. It had taken the rest of the day for everyone to be finished. She looked around at the boys, they had all been showing off to each other what tattoos they got, all happy and surprised it was something they could pick. No one asked or looked at hers. 

When the last came out, the priest began chanting and saying the prayers. He went by each with some ash and smeared it on their chests opposite to their sashes. He had them all hold hands again as he finished. Nivra felt the warmth again move through her like a shiver as he recited the prayers. After that, they were all given their regular robes. This time she was made to wait in the tent until all the asesh had finished changing outside.

They then all sat in the tent, which had been rearranged. Faskil sat at the head of the row of tables they set up, he patted the spot next to him while looking at Nivra. She went and sat next to him. The priest gave her a look but didn’t say anything. Once everyone was seated, the jecth served them their meal. It was delicious, she was so hungry she had disregarded those around her and ate as fast as she could. She heard a small chuckle from Faskil, but when she looked up, most of the boys were eating the same.

The priest cleared his throat, “well, you all came here as kaihand and are leaving as aseshand, men and woman.”

He had looked over to Nivra then, who took a big bite of the bread she was given. He looked back to the others.

“The Tribune will watch over you all now, marked for adulthood as you had been marked for your youth. Zacsoth will protect you and your soul, remain filial to Devedas and your kin, then Eredaugus will take you to your ancestors when your time for the pyre comes. The Caretaker, the All Father, the Eternal bless the meal we eat and the aseshand on their new journey.”

“Praise the Tribune,” they all echoed.

“And let us thank the great inkmaster who decided to join us after hearing about your departure just as he arrived in Trobonne.” He raised his hands and bowed his head, “you honour us, Faskil.”

Everyone, even Nivra, held their hands together and bowed.

“I cherish being here for the start of the aseshand, thank you all for sharing yourselves with me.” Faskil said, holding his hands up as well. “Let us continue our meal.”

They all resumed eating, the jecth brought out some more food for everyone. Between the meals Faskil gave Nivra a little nudge and a wink.

“Well, there is not much light in the day, I think I will head back to Trobonne.”

The priest spoke, “you are welcome to stay, we will camp the night here.”

“I should have just enough time.” He stood up and half bowed, “thank you for the offer.” 

“As you wish,” the priest responded.

Faskil got up and put on his cloak. Under it on the wall hung a sword and staff. He strapped the sword on and grabbed his staff. Looking over at Nivra, he pointed at his small chest, “Tser girl, will you help me carry this down the mountain? I am a little tired.”

“One of the jecth could help you.”

“I think it would be better if she did, after all, a bride to be married soon should not sleep in a tent with so many young men.” He smirked.

The priest let out a small laugh and said, “yes, yes, this is true, I almost forgot she was to be wed. That would be best, go on, girl, help the inkmaster back to Torbronne.”

She stood up and bowed with her hands to the priest, acoclyte and jecth, “thank you for guidance in this trial.”

She grabbed the chest which had straps so she could carry it on her back and followed Faskil as he left the tent. They walked briskly for a while before he looked behind him and slowed down.

“I don’t think any of them are following.”

“Why would they follow us?”

“Many reasons,” he said, holding out a hand, “here give me the chest.”

She took it off and gave it to him, he put it on his own back and began walking again.

“How was your trial? I came out to watch the boys as they came down, you had a few more scratches then some of them.”

“I fell when I was looking for some food, but my siblings had helped me prepare. Last summer my brother and his friend took me to another part of the mountain and they taught me what I needed to know for the trial and how to fight.”

“Your brother taught you to fight?”

She nodded, “after I had asked my father about the vaihand and he condemned them.”

“Do you know who you are being married to?”

“No, all I know is he’s from the Gartem Mountains and is a month older than I am.”

“Are you scared?”

“A bit.”

“Are you excited?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Sometimes these emotions come together, Dezelder mixes our feelings in odd ways.”

“I am sad I will be leaving my family, scared that I won’t like him but I am excited to go on a journey, I’ve been told the Gartem mountains are very different than here.”

“Very, I have seen them as well, I will not give you any details, it will be quite a sight when you arrive.”

“Is it true that they live in homes that seem to float in the air?”

Faskil laughed and said, “no, no, they do not float, there are some built into cliffsides that are very impressive, but most are built as they are here. The Temple of a Thousand Pillars is perhaps the most stunning place I have been.”

“I hope I can see it.”

“I’m sure you will, asesh, let it be known to your husband that you wish to see and travel. Don’t be silent with your desires like most wives are taught. Especially since you are both so young, perhaps he will respect you and let you grow as well.”

Nivra was not sure how to respond, she knew what her family and the priests would say, blasphemy. The words of the vaihand were dangerous. She looked at Faskil as they walked, but they did not seem worried at all. They did after all swear to the Veil to keep it a secret and she did not want to be scolded by her family for bringing something like this up – even if it was to her sister, she would likely tell Nivra the same things her parents would. After they parted, Nivra would forget Faskil’s words, she would return as an adult and be bound to her new husband. Fidelity, filiality, piety. To act the way Faskil spoke would be disrespectful to her husband, her family. Each step back towards Torbronne she focused on the journey to Gartem and all the new things should would see, pretending she was bird flying down one mountain up to another. 

The sun just disappeared as they got back to Trobronne, patrolling guards already had their lanterns going. As they came to the front of her family home, the gate was open and there was a bustle of activity. Nivra saw her brother and his friend. They saw her and moved to meet them.

“Nivra, we thought you would be back tomorrow, it’s so late to come down the mountain.”

“I was safe, Armid,” she gestured towards Faskil, “the inkmaster brought me down.”

The both of them looked at Faskil, examining his clothes and his weapon, they held out their hands to him and bowed. Armid said, “thank you, inkmaster, for keeping my sister safe.”

Faskil raised his hands, “it was my pleasure. Now that you are back, I will take my leave.”

Nivra was about to say something but her brother spoke, “please, it’s late, my father will say I was rude if we don’t let you say, it’s the least we could do.”

Faskil waved his hand dismissively, “worry not, I have somewhere to be tonight anyway. May the gods keep you safe.”

“And you as well,” Armid said.

Faskil gave Nivra a wink, turned around and left.

They went through the gate, the courtyard was being set up for the ceremony, though as it was late, many were leaving. Her brother took her to her room, the groom’s family was already here, they didn’t want to risk her being seen by them for now. Armid and his friend left after she went inside. 

Nivra sighed, the wedding robe was on a stand next to the bed and saw jars of the dye sat next to the bed. She would be stuck in this room for the next few days as everything got prepared. She changed out of her clothes into a simple robe, putting this one into her chests of things to take. It was already pretty full, mostly of things her mother insisted, but Nivra had made sure to take a few items she treasured.

As she was about to lay down on her bed, there was a knock on the door, she opened it and Armid’s friend was there with some food.

“Hi Pio,” she said, taking the bowl from him, she sat down on her bed and started eating.

“Hi Nivra,” he said, closing the door behind him before sitting on the other bed. “Everyone else is eating in the hall with the other family, but I need to head home so I offered to bring you some food.”

“Thank you,” she said, between bites. “How did they seem?”

“So you are concerned,” he said with a wink, “it was hard to tell the last few days.”

“I was becoming more worried about the trial and aseshand rite.”

“Well he’s not ugly or fat.”

“Who?”

“Your fiance.”

“Oh right, how did he seem?”

“Quiet, but he speaks well when he has to, his father and yours are seeming to get along very well. They did not have many with them, for all this fuss your father is going through to marry you to someone so far away, I would have thought they’d be a much wealthier family.”

“Did he never say what the arrangement was to Armid? He wouldn’t tell me since I ‘did not need to worry myself about such things’.”

“No, Armid does not know either, perhaps you can find out once he’s your husband.”

“I’m not marrying my father,” she said throwing a pillow at him.

He caught it and laughed then said, “you know what I meant.”

He stood up and handed her back the pillow. She set it down and also stood up, then gave him a hug.

“I’ll miss you, thank you for everything you taught me.” Nivra said, she felt him squeeze back.

“I will miss you too, I’ll keep your brother out of trouble.”

“You better.”

He let go and walked to the door, looking back and smiling before he left. Nivra sat back down on the bed. She felt tears coming and laid down, doing nothing to stop them.

—-

The next day went as she expected it to, seeing her sister go through it and her mother talking about it again and again. She bathed first thing in the morning, but only with water brought to her room. Her mother was horrified that she hadn’t washed off the ceremonial ash right away, even after she had tried scrubbing it off all morning, it lingered, a light blue stain.

The nun who came to apply the henna ensured to her mother that it would not interfere. It was a ceremonial mark, the henna would be another. The Tribune after all came together for a reason. Nivra had to lay down the rest of the morning as the stain was applied to her back side, from head to toe.

Small bowls of fruit mostly were brought to her as she laid down waiting for it to dry. Then she could flip over and her front be done. The nun moved fast and steady, she could see now. The design was intricate but she did not stop until it was done. This time when the nun had finished, she put her hands on Nivra’s shoulders and spoke under her breath. There was a warm ripple through her body and she thought she saw the henna glow for a moment.

“I didn’t know nuns could also use the Grace.”

“Of course,” she said, her voice sounding strained, “we can use it for preparing rites and rituals.”

“But priests can I use it for other things?”

“Well of course,” she said, packing up her things, “silly girl, you’re aseshand now, you should know these things, don’t ask such questions around your new husband, he might think you’re stupid.”

And then she left. Nivra rolled her eyes and sighed. Would he really think she’s stupid for asking a question she didn’t know the answer to? How else would she learn. She thought in silence while she waited for the henna to dry. She had plenty of questions to ask, she’d be traveling to places she’s never been. Eventually, fresh water was brought back to clean her again, to get the henna paste all off. As it was rinsed away, the design remained, it was too late to run away now. It would stay on the skin for a few weeks and everyone would know she was a run away bride. A disgrace to her family, shameful, she would become unflavoured by the gods. 

Perhaps she should have asked Faskil to take her with him, that would also be an adventure. She fell asleep and dreamed of flying around with birds.

—

Her mother woke her up in the morning and helped her dress. The robe was simple but she liked it, it was red, and along the edges was a cascade of yellows and oranges. It was sleeveless and stopped just over her knees, allowing the ceremonial henna to be visible. Her hair was tied up into a low knot, the pin her brother gave her stuck out the top and her grandmother’s circlet sat perfectly on her hair line. Nivra’s mother seemed to be more excited and began crying. She hugged Nivra tightly.

She stepped back and opened her mouth to say something but didn’t.

“I know, mother.” Nivra said, remembering what her mother had tried to say to her sister between sobs. “You don’t need to say it.”

She smiled, tears still making their way out, she grabbed and squeezed Nivra’s hand.

They walked down to the courtyard, it was full of family members she knew and many others she did not. The other family was all wearing a similar yellow sash, she looked at them for the first time, wondering what they would be like. Nivra stood up by the altar, a priest waited there behind it, her father on one side, another man on the other, his yellow sash was more ornate than the others. She stood where she had practiced with her mother. 

The bride was supposed to face forward the entire time, but when she saw both the man and her father look over, she turned slightly to peek.

A boy – a young man, came around the corner, he seemed the same height as her. His body was stained with henna as well, his dark hair was in a high knot with a yellow clasp holding it. His red skirt had yellow in the folds of the pleats, the robe over it was also sleeveless, but longer in the back than the front, a slightly darker red. She saw his eyes were hazel as theirs met. He smiled and began walking to the altar.