Dishonored tribes. Right. That was a thing. I lay against the rock, sipping water from a dried and emptied gourd, while eating some meat off a bone. Unlike the meat of most of the monsters I’d eaten on the Plains of Serenity, this meat did not taste like fruits or vegetables. It tasted kinda like beef, but with the gameyness of venison.

I looked at the crying groom and thought for a while. “If he wasn’t from a dishonored tribe, would the bride be the one who was crying right now?” I asked.

“Perhaps,” said elder Kezler. “both tribes are fairly similar in size and have enough hunters. The final decision may very well have been left to the couple themselves. Moreover, not everybody cries at this time. This ceremony is a bittersweet one. One longs to be united with their lover, but dreads having to leave their tribe and family behind. Not seeing your friends and family until the next solstice is difficult to endure. Fitting in with a new tribe, one with different ancestors and possibly different traditions and customs is not easy. Still, it is a time for new beginnings. Many look forward to it.”

The old lady and the bride both comforted the crying groom, and he seemed to have stopped crying. I assumed the old lady was the groom’s mother, since she also seemed incredibly sad. “So the groom will leave his family, but the bride gets to stay with hers?”

“Usually, that would be the case,” said the elder. “But the bride lost her parents to disease a few summers ago. I do not believe she has any grandparents either. It would seem that both of them may not have a family to turn to.”

I frowned. “So if the guy wasn’t from a dishonored tribe, the couple would’ve probably chosen to move into his tribe?”

Elder Kezler nodded. “I believe so.”

I stared at the couple as they were lead around the festival. They stopped for many greetings and embraces, but didn’t stay anywhere for long. I finished my food and drinks, and sat listening to the music. There were no lyrics or anything, and the notes were erratic and blended together in strange ways. It was surprisingly fun to listen to, even if it was completely different from the modern music I was used to.

I let the music flow into my head, taking up space that would otherwise have forced me to think about my feelings and worries. About Noel, who was out there somewhere plotting against the immortals. And about my world, for which I was growing increasingly homesick. This magical world had been fun and exciting, and helped me escape my anxieties from my previous world, but a strange bout of melancholy infected my body every time I thought about my Earth. It felt similar to the feeling I had after moving to college, leaving behind my mother and my childhood home. I sighed. The music wasn’t helping as much as I’d hoped.

I stared at the couple as they were making their rounds. I thought they were trying to meet every elder, but couldn’t find Kezler because he was all the way back here with me, hiding behind a rock. The fire was massive, licking the darkness of the sky like it wanted to swallow up the stars too. I stood up.

Elder Kezler and his friends were startled. They began to stand up too, but I was already walking forward. Chatting tribesmen quieted down as they noticed my arrival. An old couple playfully arguing, shut their mouths and stared. A middle-aged man drinking what looked to be some sort of alcoholic beverage, nearly fell over himself as his gaze drifted by. Children, playing loudly, were hushed by their parents, and crowds of jubilant revelers sobered up like churchgoers at Sunday sermon.

As I approached the fire, musicians began noticing my arrival. Those on the strings were the first to quiet down, some letting their strange gourd-based instruments fall to the ground. People singing and thumping their feet, froze mid-thump, their legs raised in uncomfortable positions, only straightening up after I took a few steps forward.

The drummers were the last to stop. Even in the darkness, I could tell they were caked in sweat. They had been beating their drums as if in a trance, as if the drums were a part of some sacred, spiritual exercise. Nearly all of them stared only at their drums or the bones they were using to play them. These drums were not like the kinds I was used to on my Earth. They were made out of monster hide and sinew, and played sounds that sounded alien and strange. They did not notice me as I approached the couple, who had their backs to me still.

The fast, shallow drummers were more prone to taking breaks, and in those breaks, they would notice me and stop playing. Only the slow, deep drummers, whose beats resounded through the air like near tangible waves, were still playing. I did not realize when or how this happened, but my steps began falling in tandem with the drums.

Left, boom, right, boom, left, boom, right, boom. The flames flickered with every beat, a crowd formed at a respectable distance, folding in on me like an origami fan, as I approached the young couple and the elderly woman, who had finally noticed that the people around them were acting strange.

The young man gave a surprised yelp as he turned around. He would have fallen to the ground had his mother not, almost subconsciously, steadied him with a long, bony hand. The young woman took a step back as I approached, preparing to give way. All the people who had been in my way so far had stepped back with the same wide-eyed expression. The only difference was, as the three humans took a step to the side, I followed them. After a moment, it was clear to everyone that I had been approaching them from the start. It only made sense, didn’t it? It was their wedding, after all.

The Roja tribesmen, who should have been used to me by now, had also gotten swept up by the way everybody else had acted. Almost as if the reverence the other humans had shown me had reminded them that elves were supposed to be legendary beings, ones humans were not supposed to approach. Yet, here I was, approaching them purposefully.

The young man’s yelp finally seemed to have caught the drummers’ attention, because they looked up whilst beating their booming drums, saw the elf standing next to the fire, and froze their bone clubs right over their heads. The young couple also stopped trying to step away. The old woman was a step behind them. I approached them at last, and stood still, within arms reach.

“Congratulations,” I said. “I wish you the very best of luck. May you have a happy future together.”

The couple didn’t respond. They awkwardly stood in front of me, their eyes and mouths wide open. I waited, but it became apparent they weren’t going to say anything. I was just about to cough a little and prompt them for a reply, when the old woman took a step forward.

“Thank you, great one,” she said. The old woman did not meet my gaze, preferring instead to stare at my feet.

“Just Cas is fine,” I said. “Great One is a terrible name, you see. People might misunderstand. You might be talking about a large monster or a truly massive wart. Like, they might say: that is one great pimple!”

The old woman scrunched her eyebrows together in confusion. Guess it didn’t translate properly. Jokes were hard to translate, especially ones that relied on wordplay. I brushed it aside and repeated my name, and asked her for hers.

She introduced herself as Sommi Nare, the second elder of the Nare tribe. Their other elder had been elder Rann, who had fought against me in the secret ravine and disappeared alongside it. The flustered young man was her son, Kirs Nare, and the young woman was his partner, Kann Imm.

“The Nare tribe, is it?” I said.

Elder Sommi flinched. Her son, Kirs, also averted his gaze. Kann Imm opened her mouth, perhaps preparing to defend her love’s tribe, but her mouth froze agape when I stepped forward. I moved too quickly for them to react, getting right up next to them at lightning speed. I extended my magic-wielding hands, expanded my chest, and brought them all in on a large, warm, group hug.