Sacbé

She walked the sacbé beneath a sky breaking softly into rain. The white stones glowed faintly ahead, holding the moon's light even as clouds gathered and let fall a gentle drops from heaven. The old women had taught her that the road was made white so it would never disappear, not even when the sky wept.
Through the rain, she could still see them, the scattered orbs of the Milky Way, what her grandmother called the white road in the sky, sister to the one beneath her feet. Two paths, one above, one below, both leading somewhere sacred.
The drops were cool on her shoulders. The limestone beneath her sandals had already begun to gleam, still she walked toward the temple lights in the distance.
She thought of how the priestesses spoke of this road. Not as something built, but something given, a thread laid down by the gods so that no traveler walking at night would ever be lost between one world and the next.
The rain passed as quickly as it came. Above her the stars returned, brighter for having been briefly hidden, and the white road carried her on, toward the temple, toward the fire, toward whatever waited for her at the end of the walking.