Seven days later, Aponi waited with the rest of the tribe. They waited for Chuchip, but he never came.

“Chuchip hasn’t been seen all week long.” Aponi heard someone whisper in the gathering.

She started to shed tears. They fell onto the soil, dampening it. Her mother—she was very old, Aponi was her youngest child—wiped her tears away.
“Do not cry into the soil, child. Don’t you wish for something to grow there someday?”
Aponi nodded.

She waited there for the entire night. No one had seen Chuchip anywhere. She waited there as the tribe searched for him. Eventually, the shaman proclaimed: “Go to sleep, my friends. We shall continue our search in the morning. Nothing will be good if we tirelessly seek.”

All of the people lay to rest, except for Aponi. She waited for her groom near the fire.

She had cried so much, catching her teardrops in her shawl. She was exhausted from all the crying.
A rustling in the bushes kept her eyes open. With his incredible spirit light behind him, a stag emerged from the wood.