Willow.
That was my name before I took my vows. I did so last year, during the season of the Tithing Green Moon. I remember the day vividly as if it occurred yesterday. I think I'll always remember it. The rituals, the drinking, the dancing, and the relationships born on that day.
My grandmother, born in the Year of Wilting Grass, anticipated the day with much vigor that she ended up inviting the whole village to my rebirth.
"People have to bear witness to this. It is crucial for when the season of Glorified Mating arrives."
"You'll need all the favour you can get child, and who to give it more than those who witnessed your rebirthing into society?" she continued.
I did not quite agree with her, but she had seen to it that I had grown up well fed, well dressed and well disciplined that she knew I could never say no to her. How could I? She was quite different when she was mad. Or angry. Or very happy.
Very different.
I had learnt to steer clear of her environs when she got into such moods but sometimes I wasn't as lucky. The marks I bore attested to that.
"Something about the Year of Wilting Grass...," my friend back then, Pine, would tell me.
"I think something happened then. Something big that no one wants to talk about. Everyone born then has a blemish, a speckle that is only noticeable when their emotions are heightened. Even my uncle Aspen is as violent."
I don't think I ever believed her. She was known for her lies.
Luckily, the rebirth process just like its name, meant a complete reset. A severing. I would wake inside a body untouched by memory, unmarked by history, free of every bruise and scar that had once told my story. That was the part I couldn't wait for.
And there would be a new name.
That part unsettled me.
Turns out a lot of things I didn't know.