The melodic voices of the unmarried women of the Ajjuun beat against the outer walls of Hijeneva’s maiden hut. Per tradition, her peers circled around her dwelling as she sat in silence, examining the gift offerings provided by the unmarried men of the tribe. They sought to woo the celebrity born from the triumph of collecting the bones of a deceased god.
Baskets lay before her on the collection of cow skins that made up her hut’s floor. In each of the twenty or so bend-wood woven containers were weapons, supplies, and armor crafted by the men who hoped to be her husband. The quality of each marked each young man’s value. She did not know whose name was attached to each basket of gifts. The anonymity leant itself to the expected surprise of a worthy mate. So was the Ajjuun way.
Too often, her mind strayed to wonder if Imko was the owner of the basket gift but the tragic death of her friend breached her forgetfulness to give sting to her swollen heart.
Despite the proposals before her—a grand example of her value to the tribe—she was drawn more to the laid out items taken off of the corpse she managed to pilfer in the clearing weeks ago. The body had been burned and the ruined clothes buried but it was the other items she now possessed that grasped her awe and curiosity.
She did not touch the items but used iron prongs belonging to her father to take each and place them in her hut. Inside a finely crafted box upon a polished stand, placed in a row were the four shining coins, an armlet fit with a dull gold-colored stone set in it, and a small hand mirror made of silver.
From several feet away, she could sense the power imbued in each item. The functionality or level of each had not been discovered yet but she would learn the secrets they possessed. She considered each basket and wondered if the one she chose would serve in the discovery. Would a potential husband be willing to risk his life to earn her proposal? The thought gave birth to a smile and a growing plan.