Kayo’s skin, pale brown in Winter, had ripened to a freckled bronze under the summer sun, peeling bits of sunburn clinging to her shoulders and the bridge of her nose. Cajira draped a shawl around one shoulder, twisting it around Kayo’s hips, where she pinned it in place with an ornate gold pin. Kayo looked at her reflection in the long mirror, frowning at the young woman with the sour expression she saw there.

“Any last words of wisdom, High Priestess?” Kayo asked, pinching the rose-colored fabric between her fingers. It was the first time in almost fifteen years that she’d worn anything but the pure white kashra of the priestesses in training. It made her feel mature, somehow. She wasn’t any different than she’d been that morning, yet the simple act of exchanging her white kashra for one with color made her feel... accomplished. She was no longer devoid of color, a blank slate waiting to be painted. Now she could choose her own colors, and she’d carefully selected this one. Why the saturated, dusty pink appealed to her, she couldn’t say. Perhaps because it reminded her of the sky at sunset, or the Sweet Alyssium that bloomed beside the river. Maybe because it was feminine and soft and beautiful--words never before applied to her, but which some small part of her longed for.

“Rely on each other,” Cajira said. She inspected the long, golden-brown plait draped over Kayo’s shoulder, and for a moment the younger woman thought Cajira might comment on the fact that even on this day--probably one of the most notable of her life--she’d still done nothing with her hair but the same usual single plait. But Cajira only pinched her lips. “This journey is not a time to be independent. This is to test how you and the man who may become our next chieftain work together. There will be trials, Kayo. Things you can only get through if you work together. Put aside your stubborn streak, even if it has served you well in the past, and work together with him.”

They weren’t really the words Kayo had been hoping to hear. She knew the High Priestess was forbidden from giving her any clue as to what sort of ordeals they might face, but she’d still hoped Cajira might give her just a tiny hint.

“Alright,” she sighed. “I’ll... be nice.”

Cajira laughed. “You make it sound like a punishment.”

Kayo grinned. “Don’t forget. ‘Nice’ is a four-letter word.”

Cajira swatted her backside, then took her by the shoulders and steered her out of the room where she’d been getting ready. Outside the temple, the festivities were already underway. The immense garden was filled with people. Great, colorful swaths of cloth draped overhead, offering respite from the glare of the sun. It was low in the sky now; she had only a few hours till it set and she would leave, tied wrist-to-wrist with the future chief.

Fires were lit in the bronze firepits, which neatly dissected the gravel walkway. The white-clad priestesses in training--formerly her peers--were adding spices and incense to the fires, scenting the evening air. Around her, people were cooking and eating, and the smell of roasting meat and simmered grains made her belly grumble. For the purposes of purification, she hadn’t eaten since yesterday, and now her empty stomach felt like a pit.

“Let’s find your future husband before you eat and make a mess of yourself,” said Cajira. She must have seen the look of longing on Kayo's face as she gazed at a the skewers of goat meat roasting over glowing embers nearby.

Kayo puffed out her cheeks. “I wouldn’t make a mess. I’m twenty, High Priestess, not two.”

Cajira seemed to ignore her. “Where is he?” She raised up on her sandaled toes, scanning the crowd. “Kayo, do you see him?”

“No,” she responded, though she hadn’t bothered to look. She felt uncomfortable with the whole arrangement; not because she disliked him--she’d barely spoken to him and knew little about him, despite the fact that their training sometimes overlapped--but rather, because she suspected he disliked her.

“Come, let’s go to the dais,” said the High Priestess, already weaving through the crowd toward the sandstone platform. “I see my husband. Perhaps he’s seen his protege.”

"Osahar."

Osahar turned his head to peer over his shoulder, and looked upon his former mentor. His placid expression remained undisturbed, taking short note of the man's now-greying hair and briefly recalling the many years spent being beaten into his current strength. Osahar had matured finely, and from the flatness of the bridge of his nose to his outstanding sense of duty, he near perfectly reflected the image of his father before him. And now, in the hours approaching his trial, he was able to stand before his old teacher not as a student, but as an equal.

"Are you troubled?" The mentor, known recently as Elder Sebak, spoke frankly. His voice had begun to crack with his creeping age, and the deep scar which painted his face had begun to twist into his frown lines.

"No." Osahar had averted his gaze, irate by the lie on his tongue. "I have encountered many beasts before."

"Women are not beasts, Osahar."

"You know what I meant."

The elder chuckled, amused by the lingering anger which had always ghosted the boy's expression. "There's more to your trials than desert terrors. You know this."

Osahar said no more, and returned his attention to his movements, in which he reached to lift his hair into a small bundle at the back of his head and allowed the olive flesh of his back to breathe. The skin around his shoulders had been heavily tattooed, as per tradition of successful hunts. The city had indeed grown beyond imagination, yet the tribe's ties to their once nomadic traditions remained strong, and the transition from boyhood was a decorated process.

"Ah," Sebak raised his voice again, remembering why he had approached in the first place. "The Chief would see you now. Ludicrous it would be, to spend the ceremony in here."

---

Parting the crowd was difficult, for each attendee longed to speak to the heir and bid him good luck before the farewell. The populace grew sparse as he approached the more guarded dais, and he met the gaze of the Chief, whom Osahar had learned to idolise from afar as a boy.

He had always been told that this was his path to take, yet even now the sands felt like nought more than a dream. But the dream had twisted only recently, for he had lost the woman who he had slowly learned to care for. The question as to whether he had loved her had never crossed his mind, but he remembered her dearly, and the wound had only been salted by the fact that the council had merely treated her passing as a change of plan.

For a while, all had been led to believe it was poison; she had choked on her own blood, and all accounts of poisoned wine seemed to lead back to the Priestess who had presented alongside her. And worse still, the Priestess in question had served as the replacement, having been dismissed of any and all accusations. Osahar still remained dubious, and undeniably raw. His jaw tightened at the sight of her also approaching the dais, and his glare might have lingered for too long.

"Kayo." He swallowed his thoughts heavily, and spoke politely, offering a subtle nod of greeting.

Through the crowd, Kayo saw him--Osahar, the man destined to be the next chief once Remir stepped down. Osahar, her future husband. They reached the dais at the same time from different directions. His jaw looked tight, his blue eyes fierce. The tone he took as he greeted her was polite, though restrained, but she could feel the fire raging inside him, just as she'd felt it ever since Enisha died and her name had been smeared. She'd avoided him as much as she could, but now... Now there was no getting away from Osahar and his white-hot anger. Together, they took their positions on the dais behind the current Chief and High Priestess. Kayo clasped her hands in front of her, brow twitching.

"That's all you have to say to me?" she hissed beneath her breath, quiet enough that only Osahar would hear. "You realize what's happening tonight, right?"

She smiled out at the crowd, though she didn't feel it. All around them, people celebrated. This was an occasion that would likely only happen once, perhaps twice in a person's life. Sonriette was large, but not so large that their tribe were strangers to one another. The people in that crowd knew her, knew him; had watched them grow up and train for their roles; had watched the trials they'd endured over the years.

And now, their final trial. This one would not be public. The Sonriette wouldn't see what happened out there in the desert as they faced their final challenges. This would also be the first time they wouldn't be alone for a trial. They had each other, though Kayo felt sure that would be the greatest obstacle of all.

And if they failed... If they couldn't find the ruins, collect the Star of Anbrea, and make their offering of blood to the gods... They'd either have to die out in the desert or return in shame. She'd be stripped of her kashra and title, and all the years she'd spent enduring scrutiny, clawing her way to the top, would be in vain. It would be the same for Osahar. If they failed, he'd no longer be afforded the honor he'd worked so hard to gain. His trials had usually been physically demanding--sometimes life threatening. Indeed, there were fewer among the male trainees than when they'd been children. A few graves now dotted the cliffs, white banners flapping from the stone markers to show the people buried below had died before manhood.

Maybe her sharp words had been a mistake. Maybe she should have been polite and restrained. Restraint had never been her strong point, admittedly. Her eyes flicked up to him, though her face stayed fixed. She tried to relax her mouth, which kept pursing into a frown, lips pinched. Ahead of them, the Chief and Priestess were engaged in conversation, neither paying attention to them nor offering a buffer.

Osahar's brow twitched upwards, and his head turned every slightly towards Kayo. Oddly blue eyes settled upon her, and his mouth had stilled into a hard line.

"I know, believe me." He murmured, his voice heavy with distaste. His gaze rolled up once more to face the man who stood not so far ahead.

Though Osahar was no stranger to standing in the Chief's shadow, today he knew well that the sun would begin to set upon the elder's reign, and one day hope to rise on his own. Though perhaps going by Osahar's demeanour, the retrieval of the Star of Anbrea was no doubt the least worrisome of his challenges. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Sebak, who offered a knowing smile from behind the crowd. The smile was not returned, and instead only earned an irate glare from the dais.

For a moment, he pushed himself to turn back to Kayo, holding back every urge for his face to twist into a scowl. She was sharp - no doubt - but even he could admit that it was not a flaw in most cases. Venom was useful in some situations, but Osahar was no snake charmer, and so he looked upon her with nought but an ill gaze. During his time spent in growing up, most dilemmas were often made null through the use of fists. His foul temper had been mostly snuffed out through the years however, and he knew well that alpha tendencies would not get him far here; not as a Chieftain, and certainly not towards his future spouse. Boyhood brawls were all to familiar to him, but trying to comprehend the wits of a Priestess was entirely foreign territory.

"Perhaps..." he began, his word trailing as his efforts to make small-talk fell feebly. "We should look a little more pleased about it."

The crowd watched them too intently, expectant smiles on their upturned faces, for Kayo to do anything but smile serenely, even when she wanted to turn and give Osahar a piece of her mind. Even when Cajira turned, placing a crown of fragrant julep on Osahar's head, and a crown of lavender on her's, Kayo was still silently simmering. Their best bet for getting through this trial, she realized, was to talk and interact as little as humanly possible.

When the chief dismissed them from the dais, Kayo was quick to turn on her heal and stomp away. Out of his presence, she could breath again, smile again--without it feeling like a pasted effort. She ate and drank and danced, enjoying the late afternoon revelry.

Yet even on this day, Enisha haunted her. Every time she walked through the crowd, the dead girl's name passed the tribe's lips.

It should be Enisha...

If Enisha was still alive...

I wonder if Kayo really poisoned her...

She wanted to be happy and enjoy this moment she'd worked so hard for, but a shadow loomed over her, making it impossible. By the time the sky reddened and the sun became an amber orb on the horizon, Kayo's energetic cheer had waned. Her kashra suddenly felt heavy and tight, the scent of the lavender in her hair cloyed at her nose, and the turmeric-spiced grains congealed to a heavy blob in her stomach.

On the steps of the temple, drummers began to beat a haunting rhythm. It was time. On leaden legs, Kayo trudged to the dais where the chief and priestess waited. She fell into line beside Osahar, unable to look at him.

"Today," called Remir, his deep voice making the crowd hush. "Is a very important day for our tribe. We send two of our most promising members into the desert to meet their fate. The challenges they will face out there will be great. Not all who have ventured out on this quest have returned."

Behind him, Kayo gulped, fidgeting restlessly. Her green eyes flicked up to Osahar--tall, handsome, utterly imposing. Would they make it back? Would she die out there with him on the dunes?

Would he, perhaps, return without her?

"Their final trial requires Osahar and Kayo to work together, as the Chief and High Priestess work in tandem, the heart and spirit of their tribe." Remir raised his arm, showing the tribe a length of rope. "As we send them out, we bind them together. They are forbidden from cutting the rope that joins their hands. They shall walk side by side into the sands of Sonriette, and only when they stop to lay down their heads are they permitted to untie the knots."

Remir ushered them forward. Side by side, they raised their arms--Kayo's left and Osahar's right. Remir wrapped the rope around their wrists again and again, and he gave them a friendly smirk when he made several complicated knots. It would be difficult to untie, but that was the point. They'd have no choice but to work together.

Cajira stepped forward, talking to the crowd, but Kayo couldn't hear her. Her blood was rushing too loudly in her ears, her heart hammering nervously in her chest. Osahar had a small pack of supplies and she had a map, but nothing more. Was that really enough?

How long her mind raced, Kayo wasn't sure. But suddenly Cajira was behind her, urging her forward through the parted crowd.

"Good luck, child," the priestess murmured.

And then they were at the gates of the city, passing beyond the sandstone walls into the rapidly cooling desert. Their future was ahead of them, uncertain and terrifying.