She walked up the narrow stone steps carefully placing her foot just so. The fall would be a hard one and she had to be completely unblemished in order to go through with this ritual. It was her duty. The words kept knocking in her head as she took a calming breath. It was her duty as the eldest daughter of one the major chiefs. She was to be given to the Immortal as a gift. She should be proud and honored that she was so special, but the fear dampened all the emotions that she was told to feel.

She would be whatever the Immortal wanted or needed. She took another breath. Father was right getting an education was a stupid thing to do, maybe if she was ignorant of the world that surrounded this little patch of wilderness she wouldn't feel so used. Her family was using her, her people were using her. Plain and simple the Immortal would give his "essence" to the healer of the pueblo in exchange for a virgin.

She remembered when her father asked her the question with an insult attached to it. "Did you let an unworthy touch you like all the other whores that have left the light?" At first she had no idea what he meant and he actually had the healer look at her. She thought she'd die from embarrassment. If she had only known that would be the easiest part of this journey.

The plaque had killed many people, including her Abuela. That's what she should think about, the people she was saving. The little ones who would not suffer the slow painful death that made the ones afflicted cry in agony through the night.

She stood at the mouth of the cave trying to get enough courage to walk across the carved threshold that read in the old tongue "Here is our savior and blessing: The Immortal". One last breath and she stepped in. The gauzy white cotton dress tied with a simple leather belt was small protection against the cold that hit her from the cave. She untied her long braid and let her long, black, wavy hair cascade down her back to get some warmth. Vanity was a sin her Abuela always told her, but her hair was lovely and she took pride in it.

She took the small pouch that held the flint stone, red clay pitcher of milk and the chocolate. She made small fire and started boiling the milk to melt the rich chocolate. One of the things she missed most about her Abuela was her chocolate. She took a small piece of the long brown roll just to smell it. The hint of cinnamon and chili peppers was a reminder of her Abuela. She let one small tear roll down her cheek. If she was still alive her father would've never gotten away with this.

She never understood the hate her father had towards her. She was different, but she could not control the visions, they just came. Her Abuela and mother tried everything. She was sent from healer to healer even to some witches, but none helped. The witches actually said it was a gift and that she was a blessed child. Her father tortured her with words and then with actions. When the priest of a nearby city offered her a job and some education she ran at the chance, but the plaque and her Abuela's illness brought her back and as the chief's daughter she had to obey the words of her father.

The milk sizzled as it overflowed from the red clay pot into the fire and brought her back from her thoughts. She very carefully took the cloth pouch and lifted the pot to drop in pieces of chocolate and beat it with her Abuela's wooden batidor.

She had to finish the chore soon the birds were already announcing the impending nightfall and the chocolate had to be drunk before The Immortal awoke.


So what did you think? Needs more work? My grammar sucks, I'm sorry, but I'm trying to edit as best I can while I work out the quirks of FF. Thanks for your patience