Ruth: Reimagined

Virgins

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Virgins
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A young young woman in Moab never kept her virginity for long. Not only because of the burning desire that lit every girl's heart but simply because being a virgin meant they were a possible sacrifice for the next pilgrimage. The perfect sacrifice because it was what Chemosh desired.

The fear lived in the hearts of many young women. A small number of mothers would even encourage their daughters to lose their virginity before the next pilgrimage that happened every year.

It was a ritual, right after the high priest played the drums on the mountains, welcoming Chemosh's spirit. He would light the fire and the celebration would begin.  A selected number of Moab's virgins dressed in white would dance around the fire, and girls would be chosen. Whoever  of the girls was chosen would be burned in the fire,  opening the ritual of all the sacrifices that would be made that night.

Ruth's camel was at a distance, amidst the crowd of moabites, camels and their carts and cattle. She could see the flames from here, the fire flickered higher, in this dance with the  wind, reminding her of her fate. She saw the small figure of Joel up on the mountain, along with King Elgon. 

“I wonder what they're talking about.”

Dalia, who laid on the camel beside her, turned to look at her, a look of annoyance passed her features, then she  turned away.

“I forgot,” Ruth said to herself.“ You're not talking to me.”

It had been hours without hearing Dalia's voice and Ruth could openly admit that it was torture. She was forced to sit alone with her thoughts and think about everything and nothing at all, about Miron.

She thought she saw his face before, wondered if she should wave even though their meeting the last time barely lasted two minutes. Her mother had also told her that right after she ran away, Miron's father left in a fit of rage, claiming her reputation would forever be ruined.

Ruth couldn't take it anymore, the silence was killing her.

“I'm sorry.”

Dalia looked at her and she held that look with a particularly hard expression, then her features eased up, softening into something forgiving.

“Pebble in the valley,” Dalia said, a smile forming on her face.

Ruth's features softened, her eyes lighting up the moment she heard the traditional Moabite expression that signified reconciliation and peace after war.

It meant that they were throwing the ‘pebble’ —the fight, the disagreements in the water, letting it wash away, letting it stay behind them.

“Pebble in the valley.” Ruth repeated, her smile a lot more softer.

And right after that the two of them released a sigh, simultaneously, they caught the action and giggles erupted from their lips, bringing honey to the atmosphere.

Dalia was about to say something, there was a twinkle in her eye and a curve on her lips but before her words were completed the sound of  the drums from the mountain caught their attention.

The people of Moab all looked upon the mountain, where about a dozen high priestesses stood, their garments made of gold silk signifying their holiness.

The women were gorgeous, set apart for Chemosh's use since birth, but they were also lethal, holding a dangerous seduction that had entrapped many men.