And on their magical wedding night, her husband named her Anahita. It was a new name for her new life. And as Anahita she crossed over the border onto foreign soil. They travelled west, and the further they moved away from the great snowcapped mountains, the more the landscape changed. The trees grew sparser, the flowers smelled sweeter, and the grass turned greener and greener with every passing day. Every now and then, her husband fed her new and exciting fruits. She bit into them, juices running down her chin. He wiped them away and kissed her head. It was the little things he did that made her heart full, his gestures replacing the shiniest diamonds in the world. The further inland they moved the more the temperature increased until it was so hot that they took to pouring jugs of water over themselves to keep cool, offering some respite from the heat until the blazing sun dried them out once again. Soon the hectic pace of their journey took a toll on her delicate form, and unused to the heat, her limbs turned into jelly.
