Third Person-
Kamaria sat by the edge of the river, her knees pulled to her chest, eyes locked on the rust-colored stain on the inside of her wrapper.
She hadn't told anyone—not yet. Not her father, not the old herbalist woman who sometimes came by to trade herbs with Kunle. The ache in her lower belly was dull but persistent, and she felt... different. Like her skin didn't fit the same way it had the day before. Her body was betraying her, changing without permission.
A twig snapped nearby.
Kamaria looked up, startled.
A girl stood there, carrying a small woven basket filled with herbs and folded cloths. She looked about fifteen, her brown skin glowing with the same riverlight that danced across Kamaria's own. Her hair was tied into thick braids, and her eyes sparkled with something between kindness and mischief.
"You're bleeding, aren't you?" the girl said softly, setting her basket down beside her.
Kamaria blinked. "How do you know?"
"I sat in this same spot when it first happened to me." She smiled, not mockingly, but like an older sister who'd just caught her sibling sneaking sweets.
Kamaria hesitated. "Is something wrong with me?"
The girl chuckled. "No, little moon. It means your body's waking up. It means you're becoming a woman."
Kamaria glanced back down at her wrapper. "I don't know what to do. It feels… scary."
The girl picked up a cloth from her basket and handed it to her. "You'll learn. We all do. I'll show you how to keep clean and comfortable, and what to eat to help the pain. It's not so terrible. It just means you're stronger now. The river takes a little, but it gives something back, too."
Kamaria studied her for a moment, the fear slowly ebbing into curiosity. "What's your name?" she asked quietly.
"Amari," she said, reaching into her basket again. "I'm fifteen."
"I'm Kamaria," she replied, wrapping the cloth around her fingers.
"I know," Amari smiled, tucking a braid behind her ear. "Everyone knows the girl with the moonlight in her eyes."
Kamaria smiled faintly, her heart settling. "Will you teach me?"
"I already am," Amari said, standing and reaching out her hand. "Come on. Let's go wash up, and I'll tell you the rest. But first lesson—never let a man know when you're scared. You hold your head high, like the river runs through your spine."
Kamaria took her hand, and for the first time since the blood came, she didn't feel so alone.