Build your love on stone, never be alone. Build your love on wish, slips away like fish. — Pyanni proverb
Photo © Piya Singh
Gallen followed his new wife home. She was older than he’d hoped – almost his age – but that was common here.
“Sturdy river rock.” Asraen slapped the wall. “It’ll last for generations.”
“Your grandfather built it?”
“Grandmother, mostly.” Asraen showed him food-plots and traps, repairs she’d made, furniture she’d built.
These Pyanni disrespected their womenfolk, making them do men’s work. “You lived alone?”
“Four years now.”
Abandoned. No brothers? Cousins? Gallen scowled. He’d make this right. She could dress like a woman, too, now that she had a husband.
She shrugged. “It gets lonely.”
“Don’t worry, darling. I’m here now. I’ll take care of you.”