The night went by quickly after our dance. I mostly stayed on our group’s furs, alternating between paying attention to the performers on the rise and whatever discussion happened to be occupying the others. Keili and Veris joined us after a time which incited a lively debate between the sheep and reindeer herder supporters, despite the fact that the winner had already been determined, as well as some ribbing. They left again a while later to get food and drink and see others that they knew. The others were also more prone to leaving and returning; I felt like the stake in a fishing group in Flickermark, but holding onto a handful of different lines rather than just one. Rawley, Crest, and Nole also had other people to see and interest in the smaller song and dance demonstrations that popped up from time to time. Fellen kept me company for as long as she could, but even she had to check in with her parents.

What I don’t think they understood was that, as much as it was odd and gratifying to have so many people include me in their group, the times I spent on the furs alone were some of the most relaxing of the night. I didn’t care what everyone else in the valley thought, and the tension that came with monitoring their moods and reactions along with gauging whether I was allowing myself to get too close or not faded away. I could just sit there and think or watch the performers or stare at the stars without worrying about anything else.

Nor did I let the fact that they had others to see while I had others I didn’t want to take the chance of seeing turn my mood bitter. It just was, and those that were in my group were already more than enough. As evidenced by my reactions to Crest on the hunting trip, I already had my hands full. Nor should she or Father or the twins have any impact on my mood or my time. I had a festival full of interesting sights and sounds to enjoy.

So, I sat on the treated animal skins, wrapped in a blanket, and enjoyed the feeling of the open air around me, the company when they joined me, and the freedom to do what I wanted when I wanted.

About the second or third time I was sitting alone, a pretty girl about my age stepped onto the top of the rise. She caught my attention when she started to sing—the song was a cautionary tale about Grislander and the resulting shamble men. She also had a tiny bird that flitted and hopped around. I think it was supposed to add to the spectacle but I found it more distracting than anything else. When the blue-green light began to drift from her body as she sang, I saw that her skin was the color of a pine cone, something that I heard was more common in the tribes north of the Root Mountains. Her dark brown hair fell in tight curls over her shoulders to her elbows, framing a fine boned face and pouty lips. Most notably, standing out from the festival paint on her face, a bless mark swept from under her right eye and down her cheek in two lines, the bottom one shorter than the other. Both lines indented slightly before they changed direction from being horizontal under her eye to angling towards her ear. From the adult clothes she wore, she would be joining Prevna and me when we left for the Seedling Palace.

I listened until she finished her performance. The version of the myth she chose to sing was a common one known as “Grislander: The Folly of Wishes” that the Grandmothers didn’t maintain selective rights to tell. It focused more on the dog’s downfall and the morals of the story rather than recounting in detail the gritty aftermath or the ill-thought reasons that pushed the tribes into creating their folly like the other versions I learned.

When she left the hill, she was clapped on the shoulder by what looked to be a congratulatory older brother. As they rounded the rise, I wondered if the bird had something to do with her blessing before focusing back on the dancer who came after her.

Dawn found me fuzzy headed and bleary eyed, Fellen asleep on my shoulder and Rawley and Crest cuddled up behind us under another blanket. The performances had petered off around an hour or two before as everyone became too tired and full of bitter bark cake to want to put the effort in to keep them going. Someone had started singing loudly and off-key somewhere between that and dawn but they were quickly hushed by snickers and a mortified lover. Now everyone was huddled and bunched together in quiet groups, not quite ready to let the first night of the festival end, but also lacking the energy to keep it exciting. Public affection, as long as it wasn’t too eye or ear catching like that song, was more accepted during those tired hours and many friends and partners took shy advantage of it.

With dawn though, people started to stir into greater movement, pick up their things, and shuffle off to their tents to rest and prepare for the night ahead. I shook Fellen awake as Rawley and Crest gave each other a quick kiss before rising. We helped them gather up the blankets and furs and then, once they had it all in hand, we murmured goodbyes and parted ways.

I headed toward Grandmother’s tent, doing my best not to yawn every minute. During the last third of the walk I found myself walking next to Prevna. I shot the other girl a baleful glare and then ignored her. She dismissed the look with a shrug and also kept silent. We finished the walk like that. Grandmother, Old Lily, and the other wards were already inside the tent when we arrived. Grandmother was the only one still awake though.

She rose her eyebrows at us as we entered from where she sat on her pallet, but refrained from making a comment as she glanced at her sister. I ignored her too and immediately laid down on my pallet, rolling over to face the tent wall. I heard Prevna settle in on the other side of the tent and Grandmother shift before my eyes drifted shut and I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

- -

I awoke around early afternoon. The tent was still quiet, though Old Lily had left at some point and Grandmother was eating a bowlful of cooked tubers and nuts with a piece of flat bread.

She indicated the bowl and spoke softer than normal, “Lily will be back with more soon, if eating food someone else brought isn’t too burdensome of a help for you.”

I clenched my jaw and kept myself from biting back a response. I had learned that with Grandmother it never did any good. I saw her note my restraint and smile slightly.

“Good. You’re learning.” The patronizing tone of her voice nearly provoked me into doing more than glare at her, but Old Lily swept into the tent then, waking everyone as she and a couple boys set bowls down.

I ate and then hurried to the river to clean the festival paint off my face. It would be reapplied later, but what remained from the night before felt crusty and uncomfortable. Like always, that afternoon passed by in a sedate, lazy fashion as everyone recovered from the night before and then prepared for the night ahead. Some people practiced their dancing and singing openly, for long stretches now that it was accepted, and it was odd to see the blue-green light rise up from their bodies in the middle of the afternoon.

Once I had washed off the paint, I decided it wasn’t enough. So I spent a good portion of the time before I joined Rawley and others, bathing and swimming in the river. My hair froze in the cold air on my way to the meeting hall, so it took it even longer than normal to dry once I was inside. Fellen found me in the lone huntress area. We spent the rest of the afternoon playing red hands and Recall while the huntresses idled around working on personal projects and recounting their greatest hunts.

After the evening meal we all got ready again, quicker than we had the day before, with festival paint and fixing our hair. Rawley offered her help again and, not to be fussy, I had her do the same face and hair designs as the day before. Then we had to part ways with Crest, Keili, and Veris as they belonged to other tribes.

The three clans always spent the second night celebrating up in the mountains while those of us that visited the valley for the cold season centered our celebrations on where we made camp. Unlike the night before the second night’s celebration tended to be more free flowing with people bursting into song and dance at random spots, and generally more mischief occurring. One of the favorite games of the night was to try to tuck an animal tail into the back of Grandmother’s belt while she wasn’t paying attention. Failure meant having to recite a tale of Grandmother’s choosing in front of everyone and you had to keep trying until you got the telling correct. She was rarely kind in what stories she chose, so some ended up standing for hours red-faced and fumbling before she let them go. Successful attempts were the stuff of rumor and legend—from what I could remember Grandmother had only missed catching two or three people since I was born.

That said, the second night of the festival did have ceremonial start to it. We all gathered in front of her tent according to social rank. I sat to the side of the tent with the other wards while Rawley joined the huntresses and Fellen joined her mother in the upper half of the crowd. Old Lily stood across from us, ready in her ceremonial clothes and rhythm sticks in hand. Every year Grandmother got to pick a story about the Beloved to regale us with and Old Lily added in background sounds to punctuate and underscore her sister’s words.

Grandmother stepped out of the tent and immediately tension filled the air as we all waited to learn what she had picked. Still, a part of me couldn’t help but note and be amused by Delly, one of the other wards, scrambling to tie the tent flap shut before taking her place back in line. It cut into the serious air seeing Grandmother in her ceremonial robes always instilled.

Grandmother stepped into the middle of the space between her tent and the tribe before taking a long moment to survey all of us. When she spoke she slowly spread her hands wide at her sides. “The Beloved has long been the best of us, the one who caught the goddess’s ear and guided us to survival. A role model to follow, a paragon to aspire to!” She paused to give us a moment to reflect on the Beloved’s accomplishments. “Tonight I shall tell you a tale that takes place before that first meeting in Whistler Pass, a tale that reminds us that her strongest trait we should aspire to is her strength of will! Hear me now and hear me clear: The tale of the Beloved’s Crossing begins!”

No one knew where the Beloved came from or who she had been before the young woman in the tale, but we all knew of the Beloved’s Crossing. Driven by curiosity to know more about the goddess who was made out to be more of a malevolent force than a thinking entity, to better understand how the Era of Night ended, the Beloved had pushed through the mountains separating the two goddess’s territories. She started with a group of close to a hundred people and ended the journey in Whistler Pass with under thirty. She led her people through snow storms and landslides and predator attacks with quick thinking and an unbreakable will. Multiple times different people tried to convince her to turn back, that forcing their way through the mountains to see unknown lands and a goddess that would probably kill them wasn’t worth it. Her reply was always the same, “I’m continuing on, but if that’s as far as your will goes I can’t force you to continue with me.” Some turned back—and likely ended up dead—but most pushed to finish the journey they started.

Grandmother knew her audience well and soon she had us hanging on every word—despite the fact that most of us had heard the tale at least a dozen times in the past. We waited with baited breath when the group was caught in an unexpected snow storm and offered blood in mourning when the Beloved’s second in command froze to death.

Grandmother’s smile was vicious proud as she finished the story. “So, the haggard group finally stumbled into Whistler’s Pass only to find a woman with stars in Her hair and deep blue skin waiting for them. The Beloved straightened and halted her people, recognizing that if they took a step closer the goddess would kill them with barely a thought and less remorse. Then the Beloved announced, ‘I wish to understand’. She saw death waiting in the goddess’s eyes and refused to flinch as She responded, ‘Then let’s reveal what you know’.” Grandmother clasped her hands together. “But what follows is a story for another time. Go! Honor Her Beloved, and don’t forget that even reaching the first step of a journey can take more strength than most can bear!”

Fenris whirled on her Pack huntresses. “Who has that strength?”

“We do!”

Ghani picked up that question and threw it at the tribe. “Who has that strength?”

They screamed back. “We do!”

Grandmother made the final call. “Who has that strength?”

“We do! We do! We do!” The answer became a chant as everyone stomped their feet in time with Old Lily’s rhythm sticks. Then someone turned the stomping into a dance, and the ceremonial start to the evening devolved into the dancing, singing, and mischief to come.