A part of me always knew that it would come to this, that this scene was inevitable in our lives.

Walking toward the house today I knew somehow that I would not even be allowed inside to gather my mother's meager belongings. Jed would take it all.

“No one has spoken for you, Mary. No one has asked for you. No one will be courting you this winter.” His fingers still bite into my arm.

“But Harry,” I say, gesturing uselessly over my shoulder toward the hill that hides the stream where only a week ago Harry asked me to the Harvest Celebration. I struggle to remember if I ever answered him.

Jed begins to shake his head even before I can sort through the confused roar in my mind. I open my mouth but he cuts me off.

“He did not ask for you, Mary.”

I stare at him, feeling as if everything that I ever was is draining out of my body and leaving me. In my village an unmarried woman has three choices. She may live with her family; a man may speak for her, court her through the winter and marry her in the spring ceremonies; or she may join the Sisterhood. Our village has been isolated since soon after the Return and while we have grown strong and populous over the years, it is still imperative that every healthy young man and woman wed and breed if possible.

The sickness that cut through my generation only made new children more important. And with so few of us of marrying age the past few seasons it is what I have grown up expecting. That one day this fall someone like Harry would ask for me. Or that one of the other boys my age would take an interest. I have hoped that one day I could claim such a love for a man as my mother, who was willing to go into the Forest of Hands and Teeth after her Unconsecrated husband.

Of course, Jed could choose to take me in and wait to see if someone speaks for me next year, give the rest of the families in town some time to get over the fact that both of my parents are now Unconsecrated. That our family has been touched by unending death. But it's clear that this is a choice he is unwilling to make.

“There is still time,” I say. I can hear the hint of desperation in my voice, my need for him to take me in now that we are all that is left.

“You belong with the Sisters,” he says, his voice devoid of emotion. “Good luck.” The pressure of his fingers on my arms pushes me away from the entrance to his home. Looking into his eyes, I think he actually does wish me luck.

“And Beth?” I ask, seeking any excuse to remain with my brother for a moment longer.

Hoping to rekindle the friendship we shared just a few weeks ago, have shared our entire lives.