Raki placed a crown of flowers carefully on Keu's head, adjusting it to keep it from toppling over. From the cluster of houses to the west, Meshe came skidding toward them, her steps aimed at their usual meeting spot at the crossroads.
"You've got the weirdest look in your eyes," Raki observed the moment Meshe reached them.
"And your cheeks are all pink," Keu added, her grin teasing.
"Who is the boy?" Raki and Keu chorused, their faces alight with curiosity, clearly unwilling to let the matter drop.
"It's Nel," Meshe admitted, her face turning even redder as she looked away. "He winked at me when I passed by the Sebca. But he was with his friends, so it was probably just a joke."
"Don't think that way; he obviously got blown away when he saw you," Keu chimed in enthusiastically.
"Don't make a mountain out of a molehill," Raki countered, rolling her eyes.
"You've got it all twisted. I'm making a molehill out of a mountain!" Keu said dramatically. "His feelings must run far deeper than that. Oh, Meshe, don't hurt him, please!"
Keu leaned closer to Meshe, her voice dropping conspiratorially. "Besides, he's hot."
Meshe's cheeks deepened to a furious crimson.
"Keu, that's enough! Meshe's face looks like a tomato," Raki chided, pulling Meshe away. "Sometimes I wonder what you dream about—probably boys handing you flowers."
"Hey, as long as they're cute," Keu quipped, brushing a strand of hair away from her face with mock elegance.
"You shameless—" Raki began.
"What's wrong with cute?" Keu interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "Unless, of course, you prefer ugly."
"How dare you—"
"I always knew it!" Keu gasped, feigning shock. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone."
"You—!"
"That's enough, you two," Meshe interjected, though she couldn't help but glance at Raki in mock concern. "Raki, is it true? Do you actually prefer ugly?"
"What!" Raki shrieked, throwing her hands up in frustration.
Before the argument could continue, the village gong rang out for the summoning.
The quiet morning sprang to life. Women called their children outside, while men emerged in groups, laughing and chatting as they made their way toward the temple.
In the distance, the sound of galloping hooves approached. The girls stepped aside to make way as a wagon, drawn by four horses, sped past. Dust billowed in its wake, leaving them coughing as they tried to breathe.
"Now what?" Keu groaned.
"We run, stupid," Raki said, grabbing their hands and pulling them toward the temple path.
They laughed at their clumsy attempts to dodge the crowds of children and elders. The arrival of the village chief meant time was running out.
The temple, the largest and oldest structure in the village, gleamed like silver under the morning sun. Its dome-shaped roof was covered in intricate sketches of gods. The courtyard was already crowded with villagers steadily filing through its massive doors.
"Everything always feels the same," Keu remarked as they waited for the crowd to thin.
"What do you mean?" Meshe asked.
"Wake up, help with the harvest, sell wares, then come here to worship some god," Keu replied with a shrug.
"Whatever," Raki dismissed, grabbing their hands. "That's your problem."
Inside, the grand hall of the temple stretched vast and imposing, its towering pillars casting shadows across the room.
"There," Meshe said, pointing toward a group of girls wearing flower crowns like theirs.
The trio moved toward them solemnly, but Keu hesitated, grabbing Raki's arm. Her eyes darted nervously. "What if I mess up during the harvest dance? What if I forget everything we practiced? I feel like I'm going to faint."
"Keu, don't worry," Raki said gently, her tone reassuring. "Everyone knows you're the most gifted dancer in the village. When you move, even the birds pause to watch, the frogs stop croaking, and the trees seem to sway in harmony. You'll be fine."
Keu blinked, processing Raki's words, then raised an eyebrow. "Did you just compare me to a tree?"
"No, I said the trees try to keep up with you," Raki replied, her expression innocent.
Keu narrowed her eyes but straightened her shoulders. "Nobody in this village can match me. Admit it—you're jealous." With that, she walked ahead, her head held high.
Meshe sighed. "Why does she ask for comfort if she's so sure of herself?"
Raki smirked. "She does dance like a tree, though."
Both girls burst into laughter.
The chief's commanding voice echoed through the hall. "Assemble, Balsivir."
The women arrived last, adorned in meshkalinter—beaded adornments worn on their arms and legs. Raki and her friends joined the other flower-crowned girls at the front.
A Zantai warrior handed the chief a mug of taki wine. He drank deeply, raising it high. "Hail Balsivir, the god of harvest, who blesses us with new wine!"
The Bode entered the center, beating their drums as they danced and sang:
> "It's the harvest time, ohh ohh,
Bu dum bu dum bu,
It's the harvest."
The women's beads jingled rhythmically as they stomped their feet.
> "Oki san, Oki sek, Oki bukuwantai ka," the men chanted.
Children clapped with glee, while young boys beat their chests, sending a haze of brown chalk into the air.
Raki and the girls moved gracefully into the center, their arms weaving like curling pythons, their synchronized steps mesmerizing.
The Bode sang on:
> "Rotten leaves,
And falling trees,
All coming down with a mighty bang..."
As the song reached its crescendo, the dancers froze, holding their final positions. Silence blanketed the temple.
"Worship Oki, the god of harvest, who plows the fields until they sprout with life," the chief intoned, kneeling low.
The villagers followed, bowing in unison, their heads lowered in reverence.