Freckled

Ananya had always been told the freckles on her palms were an ill omen.

The hot humid air was already building. The god of plenty, Smanya, had blessed the continent of Vasni with a lush jungle. In their jealousy, Banu, the god of water, had cursed Vasni with air saturated with moisture and unrelenting heat.

Ananya was used to this by now. She had been born and abandoned in Vasni. In her village, Chahata, everyone clung to the caste system established aeons ago.

That meant that a cursed, freckle palmed witch girl was to be scorned. Thus the blemishes consigned Ananya to a life at the very bottom. Picking up scraps of wasted melon rinds, sneaking into rain barrels while no one looked. Of course her official title was "Toucher of The Untouchable".

Any time anyone in Chahata died, Ananya was called in to take the remains and send them on their Final Journey. It was forbidden for the unblemished to handle the dead. Lest they be smitten by Metnu's, god of death's, curse and also need the witch girl's services. This was Ananya's fate until she died or so she thought.

Hernan, Chief Vashti's boy, came running down the village streets. "Toucher of The Untouchable," he said. "A fortune teller from a far land has come. They demanded to see you."

This couldn't be right. "Why? Are they about to pass away?" Ananya asked. No one from outside Chahata came for funerary rights. Still why else would a cursed one be called.

"Witch girl," Hernan pleaded. "This stranger is powerful. Even mother didn't question him. Come quickly lest he use some arcane power to smite us all."

If all of the village were smitten, then who would Ananya have to snatch scraps from? Better to have that than nothing at all. She rose from the rags and followed Hernan. They ran, splashing muddy rain water making it catch the golden light. The droplets almost looked like precious gems.

Hernan bowed to the floor in reverence to his mother, Vashti. Ananya prostrated herself lower than her superior.

"O Great and honorable Chief Vashti and Noble Mystic from a foreign realm," Hernan intoned. "I have brought the freckled witch as you asked."

The fortune teller smacked his staff on the floor causing an echoing clatter. "I did not refer to her as a witch," he said. "I merely stated I needed to see the girl with freckled palms."

He was indeed a frightening man. Smoke curled in front of his blue eyes. He had lit incense sticks in his beard. Their heavy aroma filled the room like an aura. His eyes landed on the small girl in rags. "You, get up. Let me see your palms," he ordered.

Hushed gasps and murmurs filled the audience chamber. No one but Chief Vashti gave permission for guests to rise. This Noble Mystic must be powerful to be so bold.

Ananya carefully approached the fortune teller and placed her delicate hand in his. He looked at the constellation of dots. Ananya gasped as she realized that the Mystic had the same pattern on his palm.

Not letting go of Ananya's hand, he addressed those present. "This girl has the mark of destiny!" The fortune teller declared. "She must come with me at once and be trained as my apprentice."

Chief Vashti leaped to her feet. "Not so," she objected. "This is our Toucher of Untouchables. She is the only one allowed to facilitate the Final Voyage."

The fortune teller snorted and threw a bag of gems to Vashti. "I will buy this girl," he said. "Train someone else."

Before Vashti got a chance to break the bounty's spell, the fortune teller strode out with Ananya in tow. Together they boarded a ferry boat down river to Vasni's capital.

When he was certain no one was pursuing them, the fortune teller took the sticks out of his beard and extinguished them. He carefully knelt down and embraced Ananya. "I thought I'd never find you," he said. "I met your mother in a moment of passion. Only years later did I hear rumors of your existence. I hope I'll never lose you."

Word count: 682
Prompt: Write a story or poem about a fortune teller who comes to a small village and changes things forever.