I try to work out my jitters by browsing the shops. I slip into the crowd, unacknowledged, and feign interest in trinkets while my mind is entirely elsewhere. It isn't until I am jostled from my reverie that I recognize Mab.
She is with her parents, a blonde waif in a brilliant blue dress. My eyes are drawn unconsciously in their direction more often than anyone could claim is coincidence.
Mab is my year. I expect they are shopping for the ceremony. In the morning, there will be a celebration for her and her new Incarnate. That she will not just have one, but one worth celebrating, isn't even in question. Such parties will be everywhere, popping up sporadically all over town, but hers promises to be the grandest.
Mab's parents own the general store, but lately her father has had a large hand in tribal politics. It is rumored that he is vying to be the next Elder, though there is no real danger in that. The consensus seems to be that, try as he might, he is simply not fit to lead.
Even his Incarnate is the mangy, mean-eyed imitation of a wolf. Despite the ministrations of a dedicated grooming staff, there is no mistaking that snarl. A coiffed predator.
Elders are the spiritual and political leaders of our tribe. There is no election. It seems the transition merely happens, understood by all without the fanfare of an announcement. When the mantle falls, someone naturally picks it up, as if their eventuality was understood all the while.
The Elder simply is. And while Mab's father is an excellent business man, growing their small shop to a thriving enterprise, he is not the well of stability and wisdom that our people need. When Elder Pashal passes, may it be long from this day, the new leader could be any of us. Well, some of us are more likely than others, but the possibility remains.
I see Mab break away from her parents as they debate over a purchase, and I make my way for her. Once I am there, however, I falter. I have no idea what to say.
Growing up on the outskirts, I feel separated. I don't have the same connections that, like certain Incarnates, seem to be passed through the generations, handed down like heirlooms.
Life here repeats itself, following a predictable pattern, as life often does in secluded communities. They say that the Enlightenment is the realization of one's fate, but villager's lives (or at least the villagers with families) are planned for them long before they are born. Mab is meant to be with Köv, just as Köv is meant to be the new Elder. It is my misfortune that I am in love with her.