(That I can go at for hours)
We're a little settlement, with a few hunters, a few gatherers, a big deal of farmers, a bunch of clay crafters and a shaman. He was raised by the shaman before him since he let go of his mother's breast. I've never seen him before. Today all the maidens will bring the grain for him to bless. I stand in line with the others, all of us wearing our loin cloths; some girls have pulled their hair back and let it cascade down their backs, but I let it fall to the sides of my breasts. We've painted red lines up and down our arms and thighs. We're supposed to do it ourselves, but we always end up painting each other and pinching one another now and then. The sun is about to rise when we reach the ceremonial bonfire. I try to look ahead and get a peek of the shaman but he's beyond my view. I can hear him chant as he accepts our offerings of berries and flowers. Some times he'll yank the hair of a girl and burn it on the bonfire, and some times he'll yank a loincloth and make a girl squat. I was told to quietly obey. Some girls are on their period and get their backs whipped with a bunch of sacred herbs. I'm lucky not to be in that part of my cycle.
The line starts to move, which means he's been getting offerings and sending the girls to sit around the bonfire. I'm excited to be here today, because it means that from today on, I can choose men to mate with. I think of the times I've peeked at mating couples and feel my body responding. Tonight, that could be me, mating, writhing, moaning. It's almost my turn, and my breathing is deeper and faster. I feel my chest pumping life blood to my limbs. I peek again and finally see him grabbing a wicker basket from a bored girl and yank her hair. He's bulky, muscular. His arms and calves are decorated with palm leaves and feathers, and they look so tiny tied to that big mass of muscles. He's so tall. My loins tingle, for when I face him, I'll be able to choose a man... much like him.