“Now,” Priya said. “A tale of the yaksa.” She told Malini a simple tale. A story told to children, of a young man, a woodcutter, who was born under ill stars. If he fell in love, his beloved would share his cursed luck. Any man or woman he married would die an early death. “So he avoided other people,” Priya said. “And his family worried about him all the time. And then he told them he’d found someone to marry after all.” “Who?” Malini asked. “A tree.” “A tree?” “That,” Priya said, “is exactly how his family responded. They weren’t impressed, I promise you. But he garlanded the tree like it
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