“We are the Chosen. We are the buds of spring. We are the first shoots. We are the green branches. We are the Chosen.”

The nubile women of Sanctuary repeated the ancient lines as they marched from the town square to the Auggie river. With flushed cheeks some shouted the ancient incantation. A few of the youngest, the girls in their first moon, whispered the words behind embarrassed fingers. Most like Liliac repeated the saying by rote and hoped the annual ritual would be over quickly.

Once at the river the nubile women of Sanctuary would disrobe and bathe in the sacred waters in preparation for the Green Ball. Unfortunately the rains had washed stumps and debris into the Auggie. Frothy, the cold river beckoned. Shivering she remembered last year’s ceremony. Her heart began to beat harder as if to break from her rib cage.

The hooting of the boys who hid among the riverside brush met her ears shaking her from her memories. Lilac sighed. The women in the front of the procession were already undressing. The guardians had promised to crack down on rude youths. The church elders said boys will be boys.

Splat! A rancid persimmon smacked the side of Lilac’s head. Slamming her knees on the hard packed earth, she stumbled forward. Old fruit and clods of mud were lobbed from the trees. Squealing, some women began to run. No one would stop to help her. No one could stop to help her. It was not the way. Her sisters hurried around her pretending not to see. Bethany the baker’s daughter deliberately stepped on her hand. Liliac kissed her sore fingers and promised to put extra pebbles in Bethany’s family’s flour bags next time.

Determined not to be among the last women to wash Liliac struggled up. She limped towards the water.

“Miss! Your slipper. “

Liliac whipped around. A shabby youth was half in the path half in the brush holding out Liliac’s shoe. While the young man’s clothes were coarse his smooth fingers revealed he was a rich man’s son. Unmoving Liliac glared at him.

“Miss! The walk is long. The rocks are sharp. You don’t want to be spoilt for the Green Ball do you?”

While his eyes roamed her body, he flicked the shoe from side to side. From his accent the young man was clearly highborn. He and his ilk would be the Chosers at tonight’s ball. Something burned inside her. Liliac reached down. With all her might she flung the other shoe.

The young nobleman fell backwards in surprise. Someone gasped. A smile split his features. Liliac wanted to run and run and never stop running. But where? She thought. The ancient cities were deserts. Towns, the few there were, were spread far and wide.

Head thrown back, the nobleman laughed. Liliac ducked her head down and turned to the water. Numb, she undressed. There was nothing but the cold muddy water and the long walk to tonight’s ball. as more laughter from the forest fell on her bare shoulders, Liliac washed her feet. Tonight she had to dance.