Ten years later…
“Mara! We’re going to be late!”
“I know, I know!”
Amara rushed through the process of putting on her black temple gown, forced into gambling with tearing its fragile fabric by her own slothfulness. She’d woken up late, like usual, and her mother was so used to it by now that her only reaction had been a resigned frown while shaking her awake.
She finished getting dressed, luckily without tearing anything, and rushed downstairs. Demetria stood before the grand full length mirror in the living room, preening her long and naturally straight brown hair. They’d had to sell most of the house’s furniture and fittings over the years, but the mirror was the one thing Demetria completely refused to let go of.
Visiting the mirror together before temple every Friday had been a tradition for the women in their family since Amara’s grandmother was a little girl. Amara had never known her grandparents—they’d passed before she was born—but small things like the mirror told her how important they’d been to her mother. Friday’s visits to the mirror before temple were enjoyable, but she’d much rather not go afterwards if she didn’t have to. Temple was always painfully boring.
Demetria briefly locked eyes with Amara through the mirror as she approached.
“Cutting it a bit close this morning, aren’t we?”
“It takes less than a minute to get there. You look beautiful, mom.”
“Thank you,” Demetria said, smiling.
Amara took her place in the mirror beside her mother and spent a few moments straightening out her gown and hair. Demetria did the same, though she clearly didn’t need to. Her gaze passed back and forth in the mirror between herself and Amara.
“Oh, just look at us!” she exclaimed. “We could be sisters!”
Amara instantly rolled her eyes, and turned to give Demetria a pointed stare.
“What? You don’t agree?”
“Of course I don’t,” Amara said, not bothering to hide her contempt.
Demetria clicked her tongue. “Grandmother, help me to tame this sleepy headstrong daughter of mine.”
“Grandma’s on my side. C’mon, we’re running late!”
“And whose fault is that?”
“Yours?”
“No, it's yours.”
With the preening completed, they walked a few steps over to the front door and exited the house. The air outside was unpleasantly warm and muggy, and the overcast sky seemed to promise the humidity would persist for hours yet, if not all day. Late summer was the most miserable time of the year to work outside, and Amara sometimes wished she’d been born into a family where she could laze about inside all day. It was just an idle wish, though—more of a fantasy than anything—and not something she would ever say aloud where her mother could hear.
Side by side they walked over the slope adjacent to their house in the direction of the temple, chatting casually about the uncomfortable weather and the work they needed to get done that day. A few other families were running as late as they were, and Amara and Demetria exchanged Friday morning greetings with them about as politely as might be expected. As always, Amara was amazed at how they were capable of being so congenial with people who she knew sneered at them behind their backs.
They soon found their way into the temple, occupying one of the very last vacant pews towards the back. The Seeker was at the pulpit like always, chatting in good cheer with the people sitting in the pews closest to her. As a child, Amara had often wondered at how monumentally ageless she’d seemed, but within the last few months the Seeker had finally started to show signs of her advanced age. She’d recently adopted a cane, which had come as quite a shock to the congregation, and requested help so often from the children to carry and distribute the scripture books between the pews that it'd already become routine.
A low murmur of conversation filled the temple while the congregation waited for the last stragglers to arrive. Evander was sitting between his parents in one of the pews further down, and Amara watched the back of his head as he cast his gaze around the temple, clearly looking for something. Or someone. When he finally locked eyes with Amara a handsome smile lit up his bearded face, and he gave her a small wave. She could practically feel her mother smirking beside her as she returned it.
“You’ll all be delighted to know that the stars have promised some relief from this heat,” the Seeker called out, then added cheekily, “though it's not likely to arrive for several more weeks.”
A few grumbles left the congregation, some sounding more sarcastic than disappointed.
“I think that’s everyone, yes? Then why don’t we start off with something about new beginnings. After all, we’re all hoping for a new start in one form or another, aren’t we? Let’s turn to the Good Word, section forty-one.”
The congregation leaned forward as one to pull out the scripture books resting in the backs of the pews. Amara suppressed a yawn.
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Temple was boring, as usual. It might’ve been a little more entertaining if the Seeker had something new to talk about, but hearing the same stories about God and Shaitan every week was a strenuous test of patience, to say the least. There was always at least one person in the congregation who fell asleep before consecration—usually one of the old people—and even Amara found herself nodding off from time to time.
After consecration came the usual discussion led by the chief about the upcoming week’s events, which was just as routine and boring as the sermon. They talked about the wheat, quotas and the various areas of work that needed to get done before the onset of winter. The most interesting thing about the weekly discussion was how the chief and a few others could sound so interested while talking about the exact same things they discussed every Friday.
There was only one interesting part of the discussion that stood out to Amara. She’d been zoned out until the chief said something about a messenger from Lucyra, the mention of which caused her to sit up more and pay attention.
“...And the shortage means they’re out looking for some alternatives.”
“Even from us?” someone asked.
“Even from us!” the chief replied, grinning. He slapped his big belly with both hands jovially. “Seems our wheat’s just as good as anyone else’s after all! A delegation should be here either tonight or tomorrow, somewheres around then.”
A few curious murmurs rose from the congregation. Shiloh rarely got visitors of any sort, let alone important ones from its biggest neighbor.
“I think that’s everything, right? Alright then!”
The chief paused for a moment, stroking his gray, curly beard with one hand, clearly wool gathering.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
“...Well, get on with it! See you all next week.”
At that, the congregation finally began to stand up. Here and there a few people let out loud groans as they stretched. Amara stood up and stretched as well, and after a few seconds realized Demetria had remained seated.
“You’re staying?” Amara asked.
“I’ve got something to discuss with the Seeker,” Demetria replied evenly. “It’s not something you need to worry about.”
“Okay,” Amara said, shrugging. “I guess I’ll get started on the composting if you’re going to be busy.”
“Thanks, honey. I’ll be there to help you soon.”
Amara gave her a nod, and joined the flow of people leaving the temple. Their next door neighbors, the Stokes, had offered to pay in food for a week’s worth of composting labor, something which had become something of a yearly arrangement between their two families. Shoveling and stirring manure all day wasn’t exactly Amara’s idea of fun, but she didn’t mind it much. Having enough food on the table was worth smelling like dung for a week.
She returned to the house to get changed, exchanging her black temple gown for a simple brown blouse and some slacks. With that done she entered the tool cupboard downstairs and extracted a shovel, along with a few of the rags she and her mother always used for this sort of dirty work. There weren’t many decent jobs in the village that people felt comfortable giving to them, mostly because there was no man in charge of their household. The casual discrimination against them had always angered Amara, but it was also something she’d long grown used to.
Demetria constantly warned her about her anger, and the dangers of letting it fester in her heart, but sometimes it was just impossible not to. Being powerless to change the things which made their lives miserable was beyond frustrating.
Shouldering her shovel, she walked through the house in the direction of the front door. Through the parlor windows she spotted someone sitting on the slope just outside, and paused with her hand on the doorhandle just long enough to let out a resigned sigh before stepping out.
Evander sat at the top of the slope with his legs crossed, playing idly with a long blade of grass. His gaze shot up the moment Amara stepped outside, and a pleased grin spread across his face.
“Morning, Mara!”
“Morning.”
He leapt to his feet as she walked past him up the slope, and began to walk in step beside her.
“Humid enough for you?” he asked.
“Oh, please. Just tell me what you want, Evan.”
“What, I can’t visit my friend without having some ulterior motive?”
Amara rolled her eyes. “Sorry. It’s just that I know you.”
“Well that’s just rude,” he said, pausing. “But now that you mention it—”
“Here we go.”
“—I wanted to invite you and your mother to dinner. See, it was something nice this time.”
“We’re good, thanks. I’m heading to the Stokes’s place to do some composting in exchange for ten pounds of oats.”
“Oh, yummy! Porridge for dinner,” Evander said dryly. “Sounds way better than the venison soup and corn on the cob we’re having.”
Amara halted mid-step, and turned to face him.
“...Venison soup?”
He grinned again, lifting his eyebrows up and down a few times with amusement. His smile was undeniably pretty, but even so there was something about it that made her want to wipe it off his face.
“Oh, yeah. Dad and I caught a big buck this morning, and mom promised to fix it up once we have it cleaned. There's gonna be way more than enough to share.”
Amara wavered, sorely tempted by the promise of a hearty meal. It’d been at least six months since she’d tasted fresh meat of any sort, but on the other hand accepting his invitation felt like it would be encouraging something she didn’t want. Evander’s feelings for her had been obvious to practically everyone in the village for a very long time. She’d hated Evander when they were children, but once he’d stopped bullying her they’d somehow managed to slowly become friends over the course of a few years. She liked him quite well by now, and genuinely valued their friendship, since it was one of only a few human connections she’d ever had beyond her mother.
Almost every unmarried woman in the village was pining for Evander, though he didn’t seem to be remotely aware of it. She counted herself as one of the few women who wasn’t, though she still found him attractive. He was tall and had exceptionally good looks, which was complimented well by his tidy short brown hair and well-kept beard.
But looks aren't everything, she told herself. The bad history between them was too much for her to want what he wanted.
“No thanks,” Amara said, then smiled. “I heard you eat your corn cobs the long way, and I definitely don’t want to see that.”
Evander silently suppressed a laugh, and took a moment to don a look of calm before replying.
“...How’d you know that? I do love eating corn the long way.”
“Oh really.”
“Sure. But I only go for the biggest cobs. I never settle for anything smaller than nine inches.”
It was Amara’s turn to suppress a laugh. She tried and failed to keep herself from smiling, and Evander began to smile as well.
“That’s why I always get my corn from old Braddock. He never washes it properly and it smells to high heaven, but I’ll be goddamned if his isn’t the biggest I’ve ever gotten my hands on.”
Amara squeezed her eyes shut, desperately trying to hold in laughter.
“Yeah. It’s really hairy as well, but I don’t mind. Actually, I kind of like it that way.”
After a long pause Evander began to make motions with his hands and mouth as though he were eating corn the long way, all while making obnoxious choking and slurping sounds. It was too much for Amara, and laughter exploded from her like water bursting from a dam. Evander joined her, holding his chest as though doing that might be able to hold it in.
“So gross,” was all Amara managed to get out between laughs. Evander’s face turned red very quickly.
When their laughter finally died down, Amara let out a big sigh.
“...Well, I’m not a big fan of hairy corn, so my answer is still no.”
“Noted. But seriously Mara, you should—”
Evander’s gaze lifted with surprise towards something in the sky above and behind Amara. A sudden and powerful gust of wind blew at her hair, followed by a great flapping of wings.
Mattias landed on her left shoulder, flapping his wings and gripping her blouse tightly with his claws to steady himself. Once he was comfortable he folded his wings in and let out a loud, happy croak.
“You’re a pest,” she told him endearingly.
“Black birds are a bad omen, you know,” Evander said. “They’re bad luck.”
Amara turned a frown to him. “My luck hasn’t changed for the better or worse since he showed up.”
“Maybe he's why,” he said, pausing. His expression suddenly became more serious.
“Mara. Please come and eat dinner with us. We'd really love to have you.”
She shook her head, causing Mattias to peer at her with curiosity.
“Sorry, Evan.”
A look of deep frustration crossed his face.
“...Is it because of how I was to you when we were kids?”
She already didn’t like this line of conversation. “No.”
“I’ve already apologized to you a thousand times, but I’ll do it as many times as I have to until you believe me.”
“I just said that isn’t it.”
“Then what is it? I don’t understand—”
Anger flared up through her like white-hot burning flames. She took an incensed step towards him.
“How many times do I have to say no before you get it, Evan?! Choose someone else to have dinner with if you’re this determined to eat with someone! There’s no shortage of accommodating women in this village who aren’t me—pester one of them for once!!!”
Pain was evident on his face almost immediately. He looked down at the ground for a moment before responding.
“...I didn’t choose you.”
He walked off before she had a chance to respond. A frustrated sigh left her as she watched him leave, aimed more at herself than at him. For some reason she was never able to deal with him calmly.
“I’ll apologize to him later,” she said aloud.
Mattias responded with a throaty croak, and began to playfully peck at her hair.
“Don’t think I don’t know why you’re here,” she told him.
He puffed out the feathers on his neck and head. Amara always kept a little bit of bread in her pockets to feed him whenever he showed up. Feeding and playing with him was usually the highlight of her day, and she looked forward to his appearances. He was so intelligent and cheeky that she couldn’t help but feel endeared to him, and he’d been her closest companion for a very long time. When they were alone together she would often talk to him just as though he were human, sometimes confiding things in him she didn’t feel comfortable telling anyone else. He was an absolutely fantastic listener.
She reached into her pocket and held up a piece of day-old bread to him. He snatched it out of her fingers greedily, swallowing it with gusto despite it being stale and smushed.
“Gwok gwok!” she said.
He mimicked her perfectly, and Amara set off once again towards the Stokes’s place, trading silly noises back and forth with the passenger on her shoulder.