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We sit on two padded quilts away from commotion while Sariah methodically braids my hair. Theresa has wrapped Penelope’s braids in a thick crown on top of her head and stuffed them full of colorful Topican flowers, but Cat opted for a classic, modest braid and a simple crest of twisted vines which run across her forehead.
“What are all those tents for?” I ask, twitching my nose when a stray lock tickles it. “People don’t actually sleep out here, do they?”
A man sitting by the fire plucks fast, upbeat chords on his guitar while singing and cheering with the group that’s gathered around him. I spot Tobias and Yennifer racing across the field before colliding in an excited heap at his feet.
“Not sure there’ll be much sleeping going on.” The suggestive swirl of Penelope’s hips has humor dancing with the firelight across Cat’s face.
“You better join the fun this year, Pen. I’ve seen a few eyes on you already.”
Twisting for another peek at the area, I count at least twenty tents. “What fun?”
“You’ll see,” Cat singsongs.
“How annoyingly cryptic,” I mutter, earning a sassy wink from Penelope.
Sariah abruptly angles my head forward, and my mouth clamps shut as her fingers work quickly, folding the strands into French braids down both sides of my head, then wrapping what’s left into two low buns.
After inspecting the final product, she turns my head toward the girls. “What do you think?”
“It’s missing something.” Cat reaches for two fat, snow-white flowers from the pile Penelope and I brought with us. She sucks the tip of her thumb where one of the thorns stuck her. “Friella can be prickly, but they’re one of Topica Bay’s rarest treasures because they only bloom for the week before and afterT’slasta.”
Once she skillfully breaks the stems, Cat wiggles the friella above each bun.
Penelope hides an obvious smile behind her hand.
“Care to share what’s so funny?”
She stands before pulling me up with her. “You, my friend, are going to be the most sought-after woman tonight, and I can’t wait to watch these fellas fall all over you.”
Confused, I glance at my dirt-streaked boots, jeans, and loose white blouse. “Okay, tell me what the hell is going on.”
She chuffs as if I’ve ruined her fun.
“Toward the end of the night, all the singles join a dance calledHallevah,” she says, gesturing for me to follow her to one of the nearby wine barrels.
After handing me a mug from the display on top, she takes one for herself, drinks a hearty gulp, and shrugs. “Never know who you’ll end up with, but regardless, it’s always good fun.”
I take a generous sip of the rich, warm liquid, hissing as it burns my throat. “Surely you’re not suggesting what I think you are?”
“That you make sweet, sweet love to a sexy Topican bachelor in one of those tents over there.” She points for emphasis, and the next sip I take sputters around a frantic laugh.
“No, no, no. I assure you, I won’t be hooking up with anyone tonight.”
Penelope’s rainbow-stitched dress flutters in the balmy night air, giving her an appearance too docile for that impish smirk. “We’ll letT’slastabe the judge of that.”
I gawk at her back when she spins away from me toward the heart of the celebration. “I’m serious. Keep whatever freaky, festival witchery you’re throwing my way to yourself.”
Her head tips back as she laughs, and the sound is as bright and beautiful as the woman herself. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to Elder Mateo.”
Everywhere I turn, men, women, and children alike wear some variation of fuchsia, blue, green, and gold. The sky is a yawning, endless midnight against the orange glow of the fire and the white lights strung through the forest trees.
It’s difficult to express just howaliveeverything is, but I feel a presence subtly brushing the surface of my skin, like a wave of goosebumps that never comes.
We bank the stone barrier surrounding the burning wood to find an elderly man sitting in a carved wooden chair. His legs, torso, and arms are covered in vibrant slashes of dried paint, but as my gaze travels up, I’m startled by a pair of milk-white eyes which are trained on me.
The entire world pitches forward, and I lose my breath at the slow-growing smile touching his lips.
Penelope places a closed fist over her heart and bows. “Elder Mateo, this is my friend, Heather.”
