SOFI
It was pitch black under the canopy of the forest. We’d parked the cars in the gravel lot at the edge of town behind the Rebane’s house, where Merili and Lea Rebane had joined us, and went the rest of the way on foot. The sense of anticipation I’d been feeling all day seemed to blanket our group as soon as we reached the trees, and a hush fell over us, the only sounds the swish of our dresses and the crunch of leaves underfoot. I could scarcely believe I was really here, following the narrow trail through the trees, the path lit only by the sweeping beams of the flashlights. It was surreal. The twist of anxiety in my stomach began to loosen, settling into a sort of nervous excitement.
It was finally happening. My mother’s and sister’s words from the house faded into the background. I was surrounded by women who had participated in this very same ceremony on their own Spring Day, and no matter what the secrets may be or how many cryptic comments were made, each of these women had made it through no worse for wear. I could do this, too. I could become a real member of our community. Someone to be taken seriously, trusted with the secrets of the Vaikesti.
I’d never been to the old country, but I’d been told more than half the land there was blanketed with forests. And so, it was forests the immigrants had sought here as well, looking for any opportunity they could find to hold onto the old traditions. I couldn’t imagine the trees here were anything like those back in that place the elders still called Sünnipaik, ‘home,’ but this was the only home I’d ever known. These woods were familiar to me, safe and comforting, the source of a thousand games of hide-and-seek. And after a minute I began to recognize where we were going—the old bonfire grounds, where the whole town would gather to celebrate Midsummer Night and Jõulud in the winter.
This was probably just a bonfire and some ceremonial words. Just like all of our rituals. Don’t get so worked up, I mentally chastised myself. It almost worked.
I caught sight of another cluster of flashlight beams through the trees, and a little further down the path we met up with Marta Kask and her family. Marta had been in my class at school since we were kids. We weren’t exactly close, but seeing a familiar face in her own flowing white gown made me blow out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. She looked like a ghost, her dress glowing pale as it seemed to float above the ground. If I remembered correctly, there should be two more girls here from my class. That is, assuming there weren’t any girls from the koolis participating as well. There might be a girl or two my age over there, but we only saw them once a week at school, and like everyone else, I tried to steer clear.
Marta met my eyes and I could see my relief reflected back at me. I wondered if her family had told her any more than mine had. I doubted it. I directed what I hoped was a confident smile her way, and was met with a grimace that likely mirrored what was actually on my face.
Our two groups joined seamlessly and silently as we continued on into the woods. It wasn’t far, less than a quarter mile, before I saw the flickering light of the fire in the distance. The wind rustled through the trees and I shivered in my thin dress. The weather was still temperamental this early in the spring, and the night air was chilly. Wishing I had a sweater, or at least long sleeves, I stepped faster, eager to feel the warmth of the fire on my skin. I supposed I should at least be glad it wasn’t raining.
The trees began to thin gradually before giving way entirely to reveal a large clearing, and then suddenly we were there, the old bonfire grounds, and my heart began to pick up again. The clearing was packed with women. It seemed we were the last ones there, and I didn’t know where to look, my eyes jumping from the blinding light of the bonfire to the crowd, lighting on familiar faces and away as I tried to pick out other white dresses.
The crowd parted, making space for our two families. It wasn’t just my white dress that made people step aside, nodding in deference—both my parents were on the Town Council and my father was the town’s doctor—and I could feel the eyes of the crowd on me from head to toe. My mother’s hand landed on my arm, gently guiding me, and then when I didn’t respond fast enough, grabbing my hand and dragging me around to the far side of the circle.
There were murmurs of greeting as we took our places, but the crowd was largely quiet, the sound of the crackling fire and thrumming of insects louder than the voices of what seemed to be nearly a hundred women. The night air was thick with anticipation, and I began to feel a bit queasy.
To my relief, we didn’t have to wait long. We had just settled into place when the Ceremony began.
I wasn’t surprised to see Eliise Tamm step forward. She leaned heavily on her cane as she turned her back to the fire and faced the gathered women. Eliise was the oldest woman in Vaikesti by nearly a decade, and a member of the Town Council. Elders held a place of high esteem in our town, and Eliise often presided over town events.
When she opened her mouth to speak, the already quiet crowd fell still. Her body may have been frail, her spine bent with age, but her voice was clear and strong in the silence of the clearing.
“Welcome to Spring Day.” A murmur of response echoed through the clearing. “We gather here tonight to welcome another generation of girls to Vaikesti adulthood. Tomorrow we celebrate the changing of the seasons and the synergy of our relationship with the earth. But tonight…” She glanced around the circle, her eyes lingering as she picked out the white dresses in the crowd. “Tonight we celebrate you.”
A shiver ran up my spine. Eliise cleared her throat, then raised her voice again. “Marta Kask, please step forward.”
Marta’s eyes were huge and round, but she joined Eliise by the fire.
“Elisabeth Koppel, please step forward.”
Liz’s dark head bobbed through the crowd and joined Marta at the front.
“Anna Saar, please step forward.”
There was a pause, then another white dress materialized as the crowd across the way parted and let Anna through. She caught my eye as she took her place and winked. I held my breath.
“Sofia Ilves, please step forward.”
My breath released in a whoosh. I felt a nudge from Hanna behind me, and then I was moving, my feet carrying me forward to join the row of girls by the fire.
I turned to face the crowd of women, faces I’d known since birth. The dancing flames reflected in their eyes. I cast my eyes down, not wanting to meet all the expectant gazes. Then, softly at first, Eliise began to sing. Her voice was lovely, high and haunting as it spiraled away into the darkness. A moment later, voices from around the circle picked up the song, and soon the whole crowd had joined in, a harmony rising above the main melody in the words of the old country. My chest loosened slightly at the sound, and I joined in. A festival in Vaikesti was never complete without music, and the familiarity was comforting.
The other girls join in as well, and I felt Anna’s hand slip into my own. She had linked hands with Liz on the other side as well, and I gave her fingers a squeeze.
The song ended the way it had begun, the voices dropping out one by one, until the chorus came around again and only Eliise was singing, her voice fading softly as the last note stretched out into silence.
We all stood for a moment, quiet and expectant, and then Eliise spoke again. “Darja Kallas, please step forward.”
I blinked in surprise, and felt Anna’s hand tighten in mine, as the crowd parted and another girl stepped through. I hadn’t seen her at first, standing as she was back by the trees. She was wearing the same style of flowing white gown as the rest of us, cornflowers caught up in her dark blonde hair.
Was it her Spring Day Ceremony as well? Were there actually five girls? But if that was the case, why hadn’t she been called up here earlier with the rest of us? I slid a confused glance over to Anna, who gave me the briefest shrug.
As the girl moved through the crowd, her face caught the light and I realized I recognized her. She was one of the koolis girls. I’d never seen her out of the blue dress she’d worn when she’d joined our class once a week. It made sense, though. The koolis girls were kept apart from us in almost everything they did. Why not the Ceremony as well?
The girl—Darja, Eliise had called her—was flanked by two women as she walked, both wearing the recognizable khaki and red uniform of the tajas. They each had a shoulder under her arms, guiding her forward, and the crowd shied back as they passed, giving them slightly more room than strictly necessary. I also moved aside without thought, making space for the girl.
Wait—something was wrong. The tajas weren’t guiding the girl, they were carrying her. She hung limply between them, her head lolling to the side, her feet dragging in the dust. What—?
The girl’s eyes were alert though, and when she drew close her gaze met mine and I stepped back involuntarily, dropping Anna’s hand in the process. Darja’s pupils were dilated, the black orbs swallowing her eyes, and they locked on mine with an intensity that made me shudder. What was wrong with her?
Before I had time to react further, Eliise was speaking again, raising her voice to address the crowd.
“It is time. Time to welcome the Spring. Time to welcome five new members of our community. We have all watched these girls grow from children into women, and today they will earn their place with us as full members of Vaikesti, sworn to uphold the traditions we hold dear. Henceforth they will be bound to us, as we are all bound together, in life as in death, a circle of renewal that has no beginning and no end.”
I tried to focus on her words, but I was acutely aware of the girl by my side, propped upright between the two tajas.
Eliise turned from the crowd to address the four—now five—of us, pitching her voice so everyone could still hear.
“From the earth we were born, and to it we return. We are bound to the earth in life, as we are bound in death. Tonight, we gather to strengthen those bonds, linking together the new members of our community with an ohverdus, so they may experience the bonds that connect us all.”
I knew that word. Ohverdus. Sacrifice. My breath caught in my throat and I felt suddenly cold, despite the heat from the fire that blazed behind me.
Eliise went on, looking at each of us in turn.
“The bonds we forge here tonight are permanent and real, and will guide you through the rest of your days. Will the ohverdus please step forward.”
She looked expectantly at Darja, and the two tajas moved forward a step, hauling the girl with them. I glanced between Eliise and Darja, the tightness in my throat growing.
The old woman reached a withered hand into the deep pocket of her pants, and came out holding a wickedly-sharp looking pair of scissors, the blades glinting in the firelight. I surreptitiously wiped my damp palms on the skirt of my dress as she leaned on her cane and hobbled a step toward Marta, who was staring with wide eyes.
A whispered word passed between the two, then Marta leaned down, letting Eliise tug a thick lock of her hair from beneath her elaborate styling. Raising the shears, Eliise snipped off a hank of Marta’s golden hair, and I heard a muted sound of protest escape Marta before she could stop herself. Eliise had pulled the lock from underneath, where it wouldn’t show, but I still winced as Marta raised a hand to touch the blunt ends of her hair.
Without pause, Eliise moved down the line, removing a tress from Liz’s dark hair and then one from Anna’s loose curls before coming to stand in front of me. Obediently, I lowered my head as the other girls had, and the old woman separated a handful of strands from underneath my loose waves. The metal of the shears was icy cold where it brushed my neck, and I shivered as the blades sliced through.
Holding the four locks of hair deftly between the fingers of her gnarled hand, Eliise turned to stand before Darja, who stared back, unblinking. I expected the woman to remove a lock of Darja’s hair as well, but I blinked as she replaced the scissors in her pocket instead. She let her cane fall by her feet and gestured at the tajas, who turned the girl around, so her back was to Eliise and the crowd. I watched, fascinated, as Eliise separated out a lock of Darja’s dark blonde hair with surprising dexterity and began to weave an intricate five-part braid. I could barely follow as her fingers flew through the strands, weaving us all together.
This must be the binding Mom and Hanna were talking about, I thought, the lump in my throat receding slightly. My mother’s words echoed through my head. “The binding is symbolic.” I shifted my weight from foot to foot. I was starting to get uncomfortable from standing so long. So far, the Ceremony had been rather underwhelming—singing and braiding hair? This is what I’d been so worked up about?
And yet I could still feel the presence of the koolis girl next to me, still as a statue. What was wrong with her?
Eliise finished her braiding and tied off the ends, then stepped back. “It is time for the usutalitus song.”
I’d nearly forgotten.
“Marta, you may begin.”
There was a long pause before Marta started. Her voice wavered and she took it slowly, carefully pronouncing the words. I glanced down the line and saw her eyes were closed, her cheeks pink as she sang.
In no time at all it was Liz’s turn, and she picked up right where Marta had left off, repeating the melody, her voice strong and firm. She looked out over the crowd as she sang, and I envied her poise, wishing I had half the confidence she did.
Anna’s voice was soft and slightly off-key when she picked up the refrain from Liz. She stumbled over a few of the trickier words, and I felt a little better.
My heart was beating fast when she neared the end of her lines, but I started in where I was supposed to. My eyes picked out my mom and Hanna in the crowd, and I kept my focus on them, trying to pretend no one else was listening. The relief that washed over me as I ended my refrain was palpable, and I was so glad I’d gotten all my words right I didn’t even care how many wrong notes I’d hit.
I trailed off my last note, expecting Darja to pick it up and keep the song going, but my note trailed into silence. I glanced over, and caught the taja on the side closest to me shifting under the weight of the girl. My shoulders stiffened, my unease returning. Could the girl even talk?
Eliise stepped forward again, a smile on her lined face. “That was beautiful, girls,” she said. Turning to the crowd again, she raised her voice. “It is time for the sidumine, the binding, the last part of our ritual.” She turned to Darja then, and raised a withered hand to lay against the girl’s brow. She spoke rapidly, words in the old language, too fast for me to follow. When she was finished she stepped back and nodded at the two tajas. “You may proceed.”
The two women hoisted Darja between them with a soft grunt of effort and turned. I hadn’t noticed the plank, set into the bonfire at an angle, flames lapping at its base. It happened so fast, I didn’t have time to react. The tajas moved the girl into position at the base of the plank, then let her arms go. Darja fell back against the thick plank, head cracking against the wood, limbs limp. Flames began licking at the lace of her skirts even before the tajas had moved out of the fire’s reach.
What?!
I tried to say something, but the words caught in my throat, and before I could move, before I could think, Eliise was there, a small container in her hand. She dropped it at the base of the plank. The fire plumed upward, billowing around the girl.
Eliise’s voice was loud in my ears, “Vaim on täidetud.”
And the voices of the crowd even louder, “Tasakaalus, harmoonia.”
But the crowd, the other girls, everything else was muted as my focus narrowed down to Darja, where she lay motionless against the wooden plank, her body consumed by fire. Her eyes, though. They were still alert, dilated but aware, and they locked on mine, horror and agony clear in her gaze even though she was silent and still. My heartbeat thundered in my ears. Was this a trick? It couldn’t be real.
Suddenly a flash of light caught my eye and I tore my gaze away from hers. It was her hair, the braid where Eliise had joined our locks together. It gleamed, flaring more brightly than the blinding light of the fire, for just a second, then faded. Had I imagined it? Was I imagining all of this?
That was when the screaming started.