Rawley and Fellen dragged me into a group dance around the fire later that night with Nole. It only highlighted Rawley and Nole’s fluid movements while Fellen’s excitement covered for her lack of experience. If she continued to dance every year she would probably reach the huntresses’ abilities. I, on the other hand, was merely adequate even though I refused to admit it. Like my dance with Fellen, I could do the dance steps but they lacked the smoothness and little touches a more skilled dancer would use on instinct to make everything flow together. They tried to cajole me into doing another one, but I opted to sit to the side and let them have their fun.

Dawn found Rawley and me still by the fire, now burned out. Nole had been called away by Yolay to participate in some other contest the huntresses were having and I had convinced Fellen to go to her pallet once her head started to droop. There wasn’t any reason for her to fall asleep out in the cold. Rawley and I wrapped our cloaks tight around us, though, and finished the second night of the festival together. Mostly we sat in silence, enjoying the company and watching the sky, but after a while we settled into the comforting routine of her fixing my hair and we talked some then. Partially about poisons and what that training would entail, but my mentor didn’t want to elaborate too much about the details before the lessons began. I told her about a bit about my time as a healer’s apprentice, the endless memorization and repetition, brushing over the strain of constantly being in the tent, and she returned the favor by telling me a couple stories about her time in her old tribe.

I learned that she had been second in command in the Pack in her old tribe, her skill with traps expanding the options the Pack could use on hunts. I sat rapt with attention as Rawley recounted a time when they drove a spotted bear into one of her pits, much like we had done with the boar. Spotted bears might be smaller than the ones I heard that lived to the north and south, but they were vicious and strong. That was the type of hunt that earned a statue.

Her old tribe was a runner tribe, but one that stayed on foot rather than riding elk. It hadn’t been big enough to support lone huntresses—and while she didn’t directly mention it I could tell the difference in roles had been a strain on her. Her fellow huntresses respected her and her skill, she was able to help lead them well, but the lack of freedom grated on her. That and her willingness to contradict the Pack Leader in front of the others caused tension. It came up in small moments in the bear story and the lack of her own apprentice in her other story about helping the apprentice huntresses train their tracking skills in a grand game of hide and hunt. It wasn’t enough to push her to a new tribe, but I didn’t doubt that it had contributed.

At dawn we parted ways and the day passed much like the one before. Sleeping until early afternoon, eating and then cleaning up before spending the rest of the time until the evening meal with Fellen and the huntresses. We ate together, hair and festival paint newly done, and then we all separated again. They all left to gather at their family tents—even Rawley. The third day made no distinction between tribes, so the families that had split between tribes could gather back up in a large, private celebration. That celebration often lasted until until a few hours before dawn when everyone would split again into smaller groups or pairings to see the dawn with friends or a lover.

I went to the snow tent. As Grandmother’s ward I was technically supposed to spend the familial celebration with her, Old Lily, and the other wards, but I had no stomach for it and I doubted she would waste her time to relax by looking for me. I had always dreaded the third day of the festival. There was no joy in being stuck back in the tent watching the twins be doted upon while I was alternately ignored, shown pity, or criticized. Sometimes I would slip over to the healer’s side of tent just to be out from under her gaze and the cloying forced cheer of the celebration. She had never been good at simply being happy.

As I huddled in the snow hut, watching the stars through the broken ceiling, I could picture how the night would go. Father would be with them this year. There would a sense of ease in the tent since I wasn’t there and Father would feel guilty when he realized that was the reason why. But he wouldn’t say anything. Instead he would chant the opening ceremony with everyone else as they sprinkled more pine needles around the tent, a renewal of our promise to be as loyal to the goddess as the Beloved. The twins would dance and eat sweets and be praised. She would never be more than arm’s length away from Father and spend the night lavishing him with an awkward amount of affection between playing with the twins. Once it was time for the celebration to end they would slip off to watch the dawn together and the twins would stay up talking and entertaining each other until they stood just outside the tent as the sun began to lighten the sky.

If it had been a year without Father, the opening ceremony would still have performed but the tone would have been decidedly more somber. After that there would be no celebration, but instead she grab a bottle of wine, stomp her way to the healer’s alcoves, and lose herself in the work she hated. Normally the twins would be left behind, but given that I wouldn’t be there to drag along, chances were that next year she would set them to the tedious work of sorting the quality of various ingredients while she complained about everything wrong with being a healer.

I preferred the quiet of the snow tent. Here I didn’t have to worry about a change of mood or being singled out for attention and what that might bring. Nor did I have to deal with the distinct sense of separation that came with only being nominally part of a group. Here I could sit, remember how fun it had been to make the hut, ignore the spike of fear that rose at the connection that implied, and generally hope that the hours passed quickly.

They did not.

It was one thing to lay back and watch the sky with Fellen, talking occasionally while a fire provided some warmth. It was quite another to sit curled up in the dark alone with the knowledge that she and everyone else in the valley were enjoying themselves and I would have to lie about my experience the next day. I couldn’t admit to the loneliness when she inevitably asked, though I would emphasis the soothing peace that came from being alone in the dark.

To distract myself I closed my eyes and called up the healer’s tent in my mind’s eye. Once I was there I left the tent to step out into the sprawling landscape of plants beyond. I knew each and every one from my training. After that I worked my way through each plant, reviewing their description, effects, what other plants they paired well with or whose mixing could have unpleasant results. It was an old habit, but it was one that passed the time and kept my ability to recall the information sharp. If I was going to learn poisons, reviewing what I knew—even if it related more to healing—couldn’t hurt.

By the time my studying finished I only had a couple hours until the family celebrations came to an end. I crawled out of the snow hut and entertained myself by practicing with my sling and doing some of the stretching exercises Rawley had taught me. I also might have attempted to practice my dancing when there was no one out to see me, but I might as well not have wasted the time as no improvement was made.

After that I made my way to the shallow lake at the base of the mountains. As I walked other people started to appear and meet up at various spots—a certain curve in the river, outside a tent, a cook fire. Couples paired up and wandered away to lay claim to the best secluded spot or place to see the dawn, depending on their priorities. Friend groups also vied for the dawn watching spots or contented themselves with messing around and exchanging gossip about their family gatherings.

Other people were also picking their spots on the lake’s shore, but it was big enough that we could ignore each other and have some semblance of privacy. However, one person didn’t ignore me. As soon as I sensed someone watching me I turned and found Prevna making her way toward me. I glared at her and then deliberately turned around, so that she couldn’t mistake the fact that I didn’t want her to join me.

Snow crunched as she got closer only to stop when she stood next to where I sat.

“Go away.”

“I thought we could watch the dawn together, one horror to another. It’s not like we have anyone else to watch it with.”

“I don’t need anyone to watch it with.”

Prevna took a step to the side and settled down. “Fine. You can watch it on your own there and I’ll watch it by myself right here.”

I glowered at her out of the corner of my eye. “This is my spot.”

She nodded as if she was the wisest person in the world. “Exactly.”

I quelled the strong desire to push her into the snow and shifted my attention back to the lake. Still, I couldn’t stop the question that had burning on my tongue since she started to make her way toward me. “How did you know I would be here?”

Prevna shrugged one shoulder. “I didn’t.” Then she waved a hand in the air to take in the surrounding scenery. “But it’s not like you picked the most secluded spot, and when I saw you I thought I might as well watch the dawn with someone—nevermind how difficult you were to talk to the night before.”

“I don’t tend to enjoy conversation with someone who’s poisoned me. Twice.”

Prevna rolled her eyes. “That’s over and done with.”

I snorted. “Easy for you to say.”

She twisted to face me, suddenly serious. “Your people, or another tribe like it, left me and mine out to starve and freeze, and then you beat us within an inch of our lives when all we’re trying to do is survive. But you don’t hear me whining about that and wasting energy.”

“We’re just trying to survive too. If we let the Pickers steal everything they wanted we would be the ones to starve and freeze.”

“You have the numbers and skills to make up the difference.”

I rested my chin in my hand. “I thought whining was a waste of energy.”

Prevna gave that sour look again and muttered a curse, but she didn’t get up and leave like I hoped. So, I went back to pretending she wasn’t there, she kept silent, and things were as good as they were going to get. I refused to leave and find a different spot when I had laid claim to where I was sitting first.

The lake was beautiful in the moonlight. It looked like the goddess had poured liquid shadow into the shallow depression and then traced a path of silver fire through it that led to the Silver Forest. Some myths spoke of people who followed such paths and then slipped between this realm and that prematurely.

As the sun began to lighten the sky, I rose and stripped out of my clothes before wading into the lake. Prevna started at the movement, but didn’t try to stop me.

Instead I got an incredulous question. “What are you doing?”

I waved at the others around the lake who were doing the same. “Lake tribe tradition.”

“And?”

“If you can catch one of the minnows in the lake it’s thought that your tribe will be blessed with plentiful fishing in the year to come.”

“You don’t look like you’re trying to catch a fish.”

“I’m not.”

Rather than just go hip deep like I normally did, I leaned back to submerge most of my body and head in the water. The cold was aching and sharp, and it forced me to focus on this moment, this experience. I was in a freezing cold lake, shivering and alive and here, and…Prevna was coming in after me.

She stood with her arms crossed over her chest and teeth gritted against the cold. “Your muscles are going lock up if you stay like that.”

I held in a sigh and stood back up. “I know what I’m doing.”

She considered me. “And what’s that? You’re not even swimming.”

“Not deep enough to swim.”

“I know that.”

“Then get to your point.”

Prevna rubbed her forehead. “I just want to know what you’re doing.”

I spread my hands. “Talking to you in a lake, unfortunately.”

This was probably the worst night she could have picked to try to get me to open up. I didn’t care if she didn’t have anyone else to talk to or watch the dawn with; I had no intention of opening myself up the slightest bit to someone I barely knew—or even someone I did know. The night had been too full reminders of the consequences trusting someone could bring. Anxiety and pain when you were near them, loneliness and guilty relaxation when you finally got away.

Prevna narrowed her eyes at me before she seemed to relax. “I see.” She turned around, tossing a parting sentence over her shoulder. “We’ll talk later when you’re not ready to bite off my head because of something that has nothing to do with me.”

I snapped back, “Talk to someone else!”

She made no sign of hearing me as she dried off with her cloak and dressed. I stayed in the water a while longer, letting my anger seep away with the cold, before I also waded out of the lake and dressed. As I started to walk back to Grandmother’s tent I noticed someone dancing near the river. Soon after I started watching them, the blue-green light following their movements faded even as they continued dancing. A few moves after that they noticed the change and stopped.

The Heartsong Festival was over.