***
She awoke on a blanket, comfortable and warm. The cave was empty, apart from that. No fire, no smoke, no father.
She felt… fine. More than fine. Something new simmered under her skin. She couldn’t tell if it was her own determination or her imagination which had gained something from the ceremony. She left the cave to see her father outside, waiting quietly for her. There was no sign of madness in his eyes and no hints that his actions of the night before had taken hold.
“We return,” was all he said.
As they walked, she wondered if she could work up the courage to plead for her freedom, yet again. Before she spoke, though, he hushed her.
“Not now, Kali. I’m tired.”
And he did look tired. He had aged overnight. His entire appearance had a lifeless, listless look about it. He had lost some of himself at his false ceremony, of that, she was certain.
At the camp, her people looked upon her with different eyes, as though a novice was so much less than a proven chovihani. She hadn’t really proven herself and had only her father’s word to vouch for her.
Drina, her face paler than usual, drew her arms around her sister. “You survived,” she said with a grim smile.
“Are you well?” Worry gripped Kali, and a dreadful premonition filled her soul.
“Well enough. We’ll celebrate tonight, little sister. Your life is beginning.”
Something in those words chilled Kali. Her father pulled her away. “Smile,” he hissed in her ear as he led her to the man he wanted her to marry.
What an oaf he was, this man named Besnik who was supposed to father her children. A slovenly man looking for his second wife, Besnik’s heavy-lidded eyes and large, scarred hands repulsed her. Besnik gave her a long glance before calling over his mother, an old woman almost as abhorrent as he. Her wrinkled fingers squeezed Kali’s hips, and she nodded at her son.
“She’ll do,” Besnik told her father. He refused to look at Kali again, and she caught a vision of her future.
Pain.