Despite the blindfold, she knew exactly where she was…
Colours danced in the darkness against her eyelids. Petrichor filled her nostrils and the damp cold earth pressed against her legs. She dug her toes into the dirt and leaves feeling it. Not sandy, pure, clean earth. She listened to the caw of ravens in the distance, the hum of insects, and then the hoot of an owl. Night had fallen.
She flexed her hands and wrists against the rope tying them behind her back. She felt the cold of a knife against her hands, and her hands sprung free. She pressed her bare hands into the earth in front of her, feeling her surroundings. As her hands found the cold of metal, the chanting of tens of voices began. Her fingers gripped the knife tightly and she rose to crouch on the balls of her feet. The fingers of her free hand felt for her blindfold and deftly undid the knot. As it fell to the ground, she took in her surroundings.
The small clearing she was crouching in was ringed with priestesses of the holy order, all in long dark robes, hoods obscuring their faces. The light was rapidly fading as the already set sun, sank further below the horizon. All of them were chanting, slowly, in the ancient tongue of the Great Mother.
This was the night of her initiation.