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"Keep your weight on the balls of your feet, Ly-ra," Toren called over his shoulder. He tapped the gnarled wooden pole he carried—which I was beginning to realise was some kind of specialised tool—against a cluster of violet ferns. "The forest doesn't like it when you stomp. It closes up. It thinks you are a falling rock or a clumsy beast. You have to whisper to the ground with your steps."

I huffed, wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. "I’m trying, Blue. My boots aren't exactly designed for 'whispering.' They’re designed for pressurised cabins and flat steel grates."

Toren stopped by a massive, buttress root that looked like the frozen wave of a wooden sea. He leaned his pole against the bark and knelt, beckoning me over. "Look here," he whispered.

I crouched beside him, my knees aching. He pointed to a patch of iridescent moss that seemed to be pulsing with a faint, rhythmic light. As my hand moved closer, the moss didn't just dim; it turned a sharp, defensive crimson.

"It senses your heat," Toren explained, his voice low and educational. "In the Great Hunt, we use this. If a predator has passed through, the moss stays red for several minutes. It’s a map of movement. See the trail?" He traced a line of red patches leading deeper into the brush. "Something small. A Kiri-cat, likely."

He stood up, his blue markings pulsing with a soft, inquisitive light as he watched me process the information. "So," he started, his voice casual—far too casual for a male who was supposedly showing me the ropes "The ship. The metal bird that fell from the sky. Were you truly alone in it? No kin? No brood-mates? No soldiers to guard your life?"

I leaned against the root, catching my breath and trying to ignore the way the humid air made my hair frizz. "Just me. It was a solo reconnaissance mission. I’m a scientist, Toren. I study things. I map the stars. I wasn't part of a war party. There was no one else to save, and no one else to blame for the crash."

"A scientist," he repeated, tasting the word as if it were a strange fruit. "And back on your world... do you have a family? A cluster of kin waiting for your return to the stars?"

The image of Earth flashed through my mind—the grey apartment, the silent dinners where the only sound was the hum of the refrigerator, the feeling of being a ghost in my own life. "No," I said, my voice tighter than I intended. "My adoptive parents passed away ages ago. I don't have anyone waiting. I was always... a bit of a solitary hunter, I guess. Too much for the people back home to handle."

Toren’s nostrils flared, scenting the air around me. I wondered if he could smell the old loneliness clinging to me like dust. "And a mate? Is there a male on the stars who has marked you? Someone who shares your Pulse?"

I felt a strange, hollow ache in my chest. "No mate. I told you, I was 'too much' for most people. Apparently, I’m an acquired taste that no one was interested in acquiring."

I looked at him, wanting to deflect the spotlight before he started digging into the "too much" part and realised just how broken my social life was. "What about you, Blue? Do you have a mate? Or is the life of a Tracker too busy for 'aligning markings'?"

Toren let out a short, barking laugh and picked up his pole, spinning it idly with a flourish. "Not yet. Finding a true resonance is rare, even for us. I haven't found the one who makes my blood sing yet. Among my people, it does not matter whether the resonance comes from a male or a female—the Pulse chooses who it chooses. But for me? The stars have not aligned."

He winked at me, his lopsided grin returning as we began to walk again, deeper into the shaded velvet of the lower woods. "But the Moon Festival is taking place in only a few cycles. There will be plenty of 'fun' to be had either way, whether a life-bond is found or not. The fermented honey-wine is strong, and the dancing lasts until the suns cross. It is a time for... appetites."

My ears perked up. Sora had mentioned the Moon Festival in the pools, calling it a time when the females preened for Kaelen.

"The Moon Festival," I mused, keeping my eyes on the ground, trying to spot the 'whispering' moss before I stepped on it. "What exactly happens? Besides the 'fun' and the silks?"

Toren slowed his pace, using his pole to clear a path through a curtain of hanging vines. "It is the time of the Great Alignment. When the three moons are full, the Pulse of the Tree is at its strongest. It’s when the younger generation displays their worth—Hunters show their trophies, Trackers show their paths through the unmapped dark. And for the un-mated, it is a night of... exploration."

He stopped and looked at me, his eyes dancing with a mix of mischief and something more serious. "The air is thick with the scent of the S’va. It’s a night where the rules of the day-hunt are put aside. People find each other in the shadows of the Great Leaf. There are trials of strength, and trials of... well, endurance."

"Trials?" I asked, a bit of my scientific curiosity surfacing. "Like what?"

"Wrestling. Racing through the canopy without touching the vines. And the 'Scent-Track,'" Toren explained, leaning in closer. "A female will leave a trail of her scent through the forest, and the male she favours must track her through the dark. If he finds her... well, the festival becomes much more private."

He paused, his voice dropping to a lower, more gravelly register. "You must understand, Ly-ra... the closer we get to the Alignment, the more our biology shifts. Our senses heighten. Colours are brighter, the wind speaks louder... and the hunger grows. It is a time of heightened arousal for our kind. We become... restless. Harder to satisfy. The mark of the moons is a heavy pull on the blood."

I felt a sudden, sharp heat climb up my neck. Heightened arousal. Restless. I thought of Kaelen in the hut—how he had loomed over me, how his hand had lingered on my throat while I slept. Was that why he was so erratic? Was it just the moons?

"The Huntmaster usually hates it," Toren continued, oblivious to my internal tailspin. "He spends most of the night dodging the daughters of the Elders. They are quite aggressive when the moons are full. But this time... I suspect things might be different."

A sharp, unfamiliar irritation curled in my chest. I didn’t like imagining that.

"Why different?" I asked, my heart doing a strange, frantic little skip that I tried to ignore.

"Because for the first time in his life," Toren said, reaching out to steady me as we crossed a particularly narrow limb, his hand warm against mine, "Kaelen-Thul looks like a male who has finally caught a scent he can’t ignore. He’s distracted, Ly-ra. And a distracted Huntmaster is a dangerous thing. Especially when his blood is running hot with the coming moons."

I looked down at his hand, then out at the endless, vibrant green of the world I was still trying to understand. The thought of the Moon Festival—of Kaelen being hunted by beautiful, skilled females of his own kind while the air was thick with pheromones—made my stomach knot in a way that was definitely not scientific.

"Is he... expected to find a mate this cycle?" I asked, my voice steadier than I felt.

"The Elders certainly hope so," Toren replied, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But Kaelen has never been one to follow expectations. He likes the difficult path. The one no one else can see."

"Tell me more about the dances," I said, forcing myself to focus on Toren. "And the wine. If I’m going to be stuck here for the 'Great Alignment,' I should at least know how to avoid being trampled by a bunch of horny aliens."