Bride of the Sky, Part One

The season had been very dry; the crops grew wilted and weary under the relentless heat. All the peoples of the tribe clung to each other, worrying over the coming winter and the hunger that was sure to follow. They gathered their strongest and wisest men to seek out the great shaman of the mountains and bring him gifts of wealth and treasure.

After many days of searching, the men found the great shaman as he smoked the meat of a turtle from the river. The men fell to their knees, offering all the tribe's riches, and begged for help against the drought. The shaman waved away their gifts, instead carving the meat of the turtle and sharing some with each man. He sat and thought and watched the sky. The men began to speak again, but the shaman waved them silent. As night fell upon them, in the dark, the shaman told this tale:

There is a spirit that roams the sky. So breathes the dawn, so drinks the night. The spirit seeks a bride. His is the time as winter passes and green swells the land. As such, his bride must be young and beautiful. With his bride, he will bless the land and all things will bloom.

And the men asked how to present this bride to the spirit. The shaman replied:

Cover her eyes in the whitest cloth, so that she may not be blinded by the spirit's light. Bind her hands in the lightest, softest thread, so that the slightest effort might tear them apart, so the spirit knows his bride is willing. Lead her to the top of the holy mountain and leave her before the dawn, so that her beauty is the first thing on the eyes of the new sun.

And the men gave thanks and stood to leave, but the shaman rose in a fright and shouted:

Be you mindful, the bride must be brave. Above all else, her soul must have steel, for the spirit is easy to trick and fool.

The men nodded and gave assurance to the old shaman. Again they turned to leave and climb down the mountain toward the village. Behind them, the great shaman clapped his hands and shook his rattles. The stones of the mountain heard his call and began to sing along, happily. All the stones sang under the feet of the men as they climbed through the darkness. They did not trip or stumble.

Back in the village, the men consulted with the chief over the shaman's commands. They argued over which of their girls should become the bride of the spirit. One man argued for Elsi, a girl in the flower of her beauty, with a brightness of spirit and innocence that brought joy to all who knew her. Another man argued for Nolsamma, a girl of such inviting curves and friendly warmth that all men find so welcoming. A third man argued for Kora, a girl of such fair feature and noble bearing, she looked like she might've stepped out of a great painting.

The chief hushed all the men and thought for a great while on the words of his men and the commands of the shaman of the mountains. He rose and stepped out of his tent and called for all the people of the tribe. As they all gathered around, he told of the journey of the men, and the shaman sharing turtle meat, and the story of the spirit in the sky. The women of the tribe clutched their daughters close in fear as the chief announced his decision for a bride to the sky.

His finger passed over the tribe and settled on one girl. He called out her name, Mela. The tribe fell silent. Mela was pretty, but not very. She was young as well, but not very. She had lived near twenty winters without a husband, and unless a sickness took some of the more beautiful women away, she would likely see another twenty before she found one. The peoples of the tribe grew nervous as they thought the spirit might be displeased with such an unlovely bride. However, no one spoke up or objected to the chief about this decision, as they feared he might choose their daughters instead.

And so that night, Mela was bound by soft thread and blindfolded with white cloth and carried to the top of the holy mountain that leaned over the edge of the world, the first thing on the eyes of the rising sun. She went without fuss or complaint, happy to serve the needs of the tribe. The men loved her dearly, kissing her on the face and head as she waited. As the sky grew bright, they fled the sun's rays and hid in the darkness behind some rocks below.

As the sun rose and painted the world with its color, the men had to look way from the great, stinging light. As their eyes grew accustomed, they turned back to the mountain, but Mela was gone.