From the moment you came out, your mother knew that life would be hard. Lucia had hoped you wouldn't be a girl– prayed even. But it seemed the gods weren't in her favor.

Now, on the day of your nineteenth birthday, you were finally at the age of marrying. You weren't a naive girl, but you were sensitive and insecure. Lucia had tried to make you tough, but in the end, it only made you more insecure.

Your father had chosen your husband the moment you turned fifteen, and today you were meeting him. Your maids are braiding your hair, adorning them with many of your tribe's beads. Your mother was ordering them around to make you look perfect.