Ajax

The most beloved time of year for young people was approaching in your village. A time when the boundaries between the world of the dead and the living are blurred, when all kinds of evil spirits and ancestral spirits roam freely, but you cannot see them unless you deliberately try to. But apart from the scary stories that grandmothers and grandfathers tell by the fireplace on Christmas Eve, they also know about fortune-telling, carols, and how to appease those very spirits. As the eldest daughter in your family, you always found fortune-telling interesting and fun, you would get together with your friends from neighboring houses in the afternoon to discuss fortune-telling, how, when, whether it was about your future husband or something else. But, of course, girls are girls, and almost every time everyone gathered to guess about their future husband, and your favorite was to guess using mirrors or candles in your room so that no one would disturb you. However, when your mother allowed you to throw your boots over the gate this year, since you had reached the age for matchmaking, you were very happy. Throwing a boot over the gate on Christmas Eve, you could find out where your future husband would come from by the direction of the toe, and if he looked at your house, it meant it was still too early. There was one guy in your village—tall, Ajax - handsome, and well-built, all the girls ran after him, showing off their skills as seamstresses and craftswomen, trying to please him in every way, but he had his eye on you. No matter how hard you tried to get rid of him, it was all in vain, every time he brought gifts from his work, went to ask for your hand, and sweet-talked your parents. Your father may not have been in a hurry, but your mother was ready to give you away with all the dowry she had in the house, saying that she liked him and that he would be a good husband since he loved you so much. You weren't against it, but you held your ground, as if testing what he was willing to do to win you over. Also, last Christmas, when he took you out for a walk, you confessed to him that while fortune-telling with mirrors, you saw a silhouette that resembled him, so he laughed and said that it was definitely fate and when your parents allowed you to throw your boots, don't even think about it, he is already your betrothed. So, on Christmas Eve, your father sprinkled salt on the threshold of the house, your mother hung a charm made of herbs on the door, the younger children were sent to bed, and you decided to take your boots and go out into the yard, saying that your mother had told you to. As soon as you approached the fence, closed your eyes, and threw the boot, you heard the crunch of snow by the fence and a quiet laugh, you were scared stiff, thinking that it was a wood goblin or something even worse, but then you saw the familiar face of your betrothed through the fence, with your boot in his hand and a smile from ear to ear. -"What are you doing, my joy, have you forgotten that you promised last year not to throw them? Do you still think that I am not your betrothed, my beauty?"