"Whoosh—"
Acrid smoke from burning herbs hung thick in the air. Clear water ran down smooth skin into a basin, splashing up bright, crystalline droplets.
The two oldest women in the village, so aged they could no longer work, wiped the girl's body with hands like withered branches.
Their movements were gentle, yet mechanically swift. Like the cold water soaking the towels, they were icy to the bone, making Lillie tremble despite herself.
Her eyes were still as calm as they had been that night, only now there was a little more emptiness beneath them.
Like a marionette, she simply let the two old women beside her manipulate her body.
Once her body was dried, a plain white dress was slipped onto her.
The dress was coarse, clearly not made from any expensive fabric, yet its surface was exceptionally clean, spotless and free of dust. It symbolized the purity of the offering, and the villagers' reverence for the Spirit of the Canyon.
Lillie's hair was combed neatly and draped over her shoulders. Her feet were bare.
Only after the others had checked that there was no mistake did an even older, hunched crone, her whole body reeking of death, tremblingly stretch out her shriveled, withered arm and heavily mark the girl's forehead with an ancient sacrificial symbol in ocher-red liquid mixed from animal blood and special herbs.
Outside the tent, the crowd gathered in silence. Pairs of eyes quietly watched the fluttering banners before the tent, and the air was filled with a cold, deathly stillness.
The curtain was lifted.
Under everyone's gaze, Lillie slowly walked out.
It was already morning. Weak, dim sunlight fell faintly across her face.
Against that white dress, her complexion looked even paler, like a wildflower trembling in the cold wind.
The old village chief