It was sometime in the very early hours of the morning when Amelinne's eyes fluttered open. The blaze in the fireplace had withered down to little more than scarlet embers. A soft chorus of breathing and snores rose and fell all around. Sunrise was hours away yet and there was a peaceful stillness in the world that urged her to close her eyes and slip back into sleep. Instead, she turned her head to face the small girl that lay in the bed next to her.

Pallas's hair had escaped from its bun and exploded into a tousled mess that did nothing to diminish the fine features of her face. If anything, it lent her the wild appearance of some sort of savage huntress or forest fae. She sprawled on her side, facing Amelinne, clutching the quilt to her chin. Amelinne reached a hand across the bed to brush a lock of Pallas's dark auburn hair out of her face when she noticed the vigorous movement of Pallas's eyes beneath the lids. The poor girl seemed to be in the throes of some intense dream, her lips engaged in a silent pantomime of speech. Amelinne moved closer, hoping to catch a whisper of what her new companion was experiencing.

"Mom," Pallas mumbled, her voice barely audible in the relative silence of the night.

Amelinne scrunched her face in concern. *I thought you couldn't remember your life before you washed up here in Rivergarde?* she thought to herself. *Are you afraid of your past?*

But Pallas's lips continued to mutter, finally whispering the words, "Natalie, I'm sorry." Tears had welled up in the younger girl's eyes, pooling in the small dip created between her nasal bone and her eye.

Overcome by tender concern for her friend, Amelinne shifted closer to Pallas. She gently pulled Pallas's head to her chest and wrapped her arm around the slender girl's torso. Pallas stiffened at first, mumbling a muffled "No!" before she eventually relaxed and cuddled into Amelinne's arms. Amelinne smiled fondly and closed her eyes.

* * *

A perplexing combination of sounds and movement roused Amelinne from slumber. She found her face entirely smothered by a blanket of dark reddish brown hair, heating her breath to an uncomfortable level. Below her chin, some curious life form was writhing and twisting under the quilt. Amelinne blinked her eyes in confusion a moment before pushing herself away and throwing the covers aside.

Beside her lay a crimson-faced Pallas, hair in utter disarray, glancing around with the wide eyes of a hunted animal. Pallas looked about slowly to take in the surroundings before finally focusing on Amelinne and making an unreadable expression. At long last Pallas said, "Oh. I'm in Ami's bed," as though reassuring herself.

Amelinne couldn't help but raise an eyebrow and give a grin. "Oh, so you're calling me Ami, now?"

Pallas pouted a bit and asked, "Am I not allowed to? Laraline did and I thought it sounded cute..."

"Of course you can, silly!" Amelinne replied as she pulled Pallas into a hug. "You're like my other little sister!" With that, Amelinne proceeded to tickle Pallas's sides and belly, causing the younger girl to squeal in surprise before bursting into a fit of giggles. The meylarns jumped from their bunk and onto Amelinne's bed, yipping loudly in the excitement as they bounced around, adding to the cacophony of sounds.

"Gaaaahhhh, it's too early for this much noise!" Mickel complained from his bunk, unceremoniously heaving a pillow at the girls. Reese grabbed the pillow out of the air with his mouth and tossed it aside with a self-satisfied huff before it could reach Amelinne or Pallas.

Jerald, already dressed in woolen trousers and a long-sleeved shirt, had busied himself with cleaning the fireplace and building the fire back up from its embers. He gave the commotion a sidelong glance before his face broke into a smirk. "Now now, Mick, the sun is nearly up! Might as well roll out of bed and seize the day!" The deep rumble of his voice was muted somewhat in deference to the hour.

With a groan, Laraline sat up in her bunk but said nothing. Instead, she slipped her feet over the side and hopped down the short distance to the floor, landing gracefully as her nightgown flared out around her legs. "Mickel, get Kurtz out of bed," Lara said curtly. She pulled a robe from a peg attached to the side of her bunk and slipped it over her shoulders as she levelled a meaningful glance at Amelinne. "You two should get up and dressed, too. Mother said we had plans today."

Pallas looked to Amelinne with a curious tilt to her head. "Any idea what these plans are?" she inquired.

"If I had to guess," Amelinne began, "It's probably the Moonlight Festival celebrating the light of Listern. The village holds one every full moon, but it's generally not a large affair. Since Lara and I began working, we haven't attended as participants much. I believe Mother may have wanted you to be able to join in the festivities as part of our family."

"Oh, that's neat. So what's involved in this festival?" Pallas felt a warmth in her chest at the idea of being included.

Lara and Ami shared a confused look before Lara stated, "It's mostly a celebration of maidenhood. The Second Priestess gives a brief speech and then there's dancing, games, and feasting. Some of the craftsfolk share their latest works. Eber has his cooks put out a large spread of food sponsored by the Church. When the moon is high, there's a group prayer followed by some guided meditation."

"The boys don't like it much because there are no contests of strength and the dancing is for unmarried girls only. A lot of them just show up for the food and leave, or stick around to watch the girls dance if they're old enough to care for such a thing," Amelinne quickly added.

Pallas blanched at the thought of dancing. *There's no way I can dance the way I did on Halloween!* she thought to herself. Her concern was apparently written plainly on her face, as Amelinne gave her a soft smile.

"The festival dances are quite simple. Even children can learn and perform them quickly. I'm sure you'll be just fine!" she assured Pallas. "Now come on, let's get you dressed!"

In short order, the girls were ready for the day. Pallas in her sleeveless pale green dress, Laraline in a bright blue short-sleeved blouse and long navy skirt, and Amelinne wore a shoulder-baring white blouse with a high-waisted forest green skirt.

They took turns brushing and styling each other's hair. Pallas found hers wound into a bun with a braid wrapped around it, a few simple pins holding it in place, courtesy of Laraline. Ami fashioned Lara's blonde hair into a pair of buns on top of her head, the bangs pushed to one side, and the rest of the hair flowing down her back. Pallas used her relatively recent experience with wig styling to craft Amelinne's hair into a pair of french braids at either side of the head that joined into a single larger braid at the back of the head with the rest of the hair brushed smooth down the back.

Each girl took a few moments to admire the styles in Pallas's hand mirror. "Well don't you all look lovely!" Vienne said, having returned from her morning errands. "Lara, can you please help me with breakfast?"

Laraline nodded. "Yes, Mother!" She gave Amelinne a sidelong glance and added, "Goodness knows what would happen if Amelinne tried to help."

Amelinne's face flushed but she refused to dignify Lara's quip with a response. Instead, she asked "Pallas, why don't you join me while I take the meylarns out?" She quickly donned her shoes and opened the door. "Mayla, Reese! Come!" she called out. The meylarns jumped up from where they were lounging in front of the fireplace and trotted out the door ahead of Amelinne as Pallas hopped into her boots and followed them into the early morning air.

A preternatural calm had settled over Rivergarde through the night. Dew clung to the grass on the ground and to the windows of the buildings; golden rays of light pierced the quiet town through surrounding trees. The meylarns frolicked through the grass, bouncing and yipping at each other, bushy tails flicking dew up in the air. Amelinne watched as they played with an almost serene expression on her face and the corners of her mouth curled up in the faintest hint of a smile.

"I've never seen you look like that," Pallas remarked. "You don't usually look happy or pleased at work."

"That's not true!" Amelinne retorted. She crossed her arms across her chest and brushed her shoulders with her hands. "I just don't feel like I'm allowed to do much more than wait tables and clean. Eber just uses me to run errands, really. I really wanted to learn, you know. To prepare food, to cook, to make a better option for... uh..."

"Marriage?" offered Pallas.

Amelinne chuckled dryly. "Yes. I'm nearing the age of betrothal. But there aren't exactly any suitors knocking on my door."

"Is there anyone you're interested in?"

"I'll be honest, I can't say there are any good candidates in town. That was another reason I was working at the inn... I was hoping that some traveler or visitor would happen by and maybe I would catch his eye," Ami said wistfully. The meylarns had finished their business and come back for attention and guidance. Transitioning from melancholy maiden to heedful handler, Amelinne stooped down and scratched the animals behind the ears and around the neck. Mayla yawned and made a purring sound leading Amelinne to smile once more. Ami rose to her feet and sighed. "I should have worn something warmer! I didn't realize it was still so chilly today."

"Is it? I hadn't noticed," Pallas admitted. She placed her hands on her bare arms, but didn't notice any sort of chill or clamminess. "I feel fine!"

Without a word, Amelinne strode the few steps to where Pallas waited and wrapped her arms around the smaller girl. Pallas blinked in surprise. "Uh, Ami? What's this about?"

"Mmmm... I'm stealing your heat. I'm too cold. Sisters share warmth!" came Amelinne's reply.

"Oh! In that case, this might work better," Pallas exclaimed as she extricated herself from Amelinne's embrace and threw her own arms around her 'big sister.'

"Yeeeessssss!! Oh, goodness, it's like being in a warm bath! Can I just wear you until it's warmer?"

"How would that even work?" Pallas asked with a laugh.

"Like this!" With a sudden twist and a crouch, Amelinne pulled Pallas up onto her back in a piggyback position. The meylarns yipped excitedly at the unexpected movement and began hopping around. "Now you're my backwarmer!" Amelinne called out.

"Not fair, not fair!" giggled Pallas. For all her protestations, she was actually enjoying the playfulness. Growing up an only child, she'd never gotten to experience anything like this. Her reserved and quiet nature kept her from engaging in any horseplay with others until she met Natalie and by then, 'he' was already much bigger than Nat.

Laughing like idiots, the pair made their way back inside the Tirtha household with the meylarns in tow. During the time outside, Jerald and the boys had returned from their baths so the whole family sat down to a simple breakfast of spiced porridge, sliced fruits, and skillet-fried meat. Everyone ate quickly and with little conversation, apparently excited about the change in the routine when it came to the Moonlight Festival. Even Mickel and Kurtz were caught up in the exurberance and whispered to each other about winning prizes at the games.

And so it was that the Tirtha family plus Pallas wound into the center of Rivergarde after the golden sun had fully risen above the eastern horizon. Hastily-erected tents surrounded the beaten-earth circle in front of the inn and several well-dressed musicians were playing a jaunty tune on a flute, drum, and a stringed instrument that bore a strong resemblance to a lute or guitar. A dancing circle had been marked out with a series of tripods and ropes decorated with colorful ribbons and already, several young girls were spinning and prancing in the circle in beat to the music.

The tents, as expected, were offering an array of simple games, each run by various members of the community. One in particular that caught Pallas's eye was a knife-throwing game. The board was marked with a series of concentric painted circles of various sizes and colors which appeared to correlate to prizes hanging from the front of the tent. The prizes varied from crudely-carved wooden figures of animals to simple cloth dolls and puppets to some nicer hair ornaments and small embroidered scarves. The proprietor of the tent was a portly gentleman Pallas recognized from her work at the inn, Tombry.

"Hoy there, Jerald!" Tombry called out to the family as Pallas found herself wandering toward the tent. Jerald and Vienne turned as one to the source of the voice, forcing the children to follow suit.

"Fair morning, Tombry!" Jerald replied. "How go the games, today?"

Tombry crossed his arms on his chest and gave a chuckle. "It's early yet, so there've been no players. Care to have the boys try a hand? It's a smallcoin per play, just like last moon! And all the best prizes are still available!"

Jerald didn't need to look at his sons to know how eager they were to give it a try. Kurtz was eagerly bouncing from foot to foot while Mickel hummed happily. Both boys were already eyeing prizes on the tent. "I don't see the harm! Here you go," the Tirtha patriarch said as he withdrew a pair of small bronze-hued coins from the pouch buckled to his belt.

Amelinne and Laraline moved closer to the dancing circle with Vienne, who motioned for Pallas to follow. Pallas, however, shook her head with a smile and opted to stay to watch the game.

Kurtz was first up to the throwing line. He was handed three knives and given brief instructions on how to throw by Tombry. Tombry demonstrated with another knife from his belt, landing a respectable spot in the second-smallest circle, painted a bright yellow color. After retrieving his knife, he gave Kurtz the signal to start throwing.

The youngest boy's first throw went wide, crashing into the unpainted outer border of the target board with the handle and bouncing down to the ground. His second throw managed to hit the largest circle, but failed to stick, resulting in the knife joining its compatriot on the earth with a few flakes of green paint. Frustrated, Kurtz threw the last knife wildly, succeeding only in sticking the tip into the ground in front of the target. With a growl and a stomp, he stepped out of the way to let his older brother have a go at the game.

Mickel displayed a bit more discipline in his throws. His first throw landed just outside the outermost circle, clinging to the board for dear life before falling to the ground. His second throw, made with a bit more control and strength, managed to stick in the largest circle, firmly within its green border. His last throw, however, sailed directly to the red bullseye - and bounced. With a cry of despair, he threw his hands in the air and spun on his foot. "I was so close!" he shouted. Tombry gave a loud laugh as he stooped to collect the knives the boys had thrown.

"The green circle gets you one of the Collector Critters! Take your pick!" Tombry said as he gestured to the carved animal figurines.

"Eh, you pick, Kurtz," Mickel said to his brother. "You were looking forward to these more than I was."

Kurtz's eyes went wide. "Are you sure, Mick?"

"Yep!" the older brother replied with a cheeky grin. "If I got something better, I was gonna give it to Pallas, anyway. So I don't mind!"

Kurtz happily selected a tiny statuette of a bird with its wings outstretched as Jerald began heading toward the dancing circle where his wife and daughters awaited. Before he could go more than a couple steps, however, Pallas spoke up.

"Mister Tirtha?" she said hesitantly. Jerald turned to face her. "May I also try the game?"

Jerald looked to Tombry, who looked to Pallas with an expression of bemusement. A grin spread across his face. "What do you say, Tom? Let a girl try her hand?"

Tombry scratched his stubbled chin and shrugged. "I don't see why not. It's usually a game for the boys to show off for the girls or at least distract themselves while the girls dance. But nothing says a lady can't throw as good as a lad!"

With that, another coin passed from Jerald's hand to Tombry's and three of the knives were placed into Pallas's hands. The proprietor of the stall gave another quick demonstration of how to throw and Pallas kept a careful eye on the knife he used and the method of his throw. "Think you can do it just like that?" Tombry asked with a smirk.

Pallas nodded quietly and studied the knives. She had watched some "pro" competitions of the World Knife Throwing League on TV and she'd given it a shot at a Renaissance Festival (or three...) The first thing she noticed was the poor balance. Most of the weight was in the hilt, which was on the long side compared to the blade. The second thing she noticed was that all three knives were blunt. It didn't appear to be from frequent throwing, either. The blades honestly looked as though they'd never been properly sharpened.

Frowning, she got into roughly the stance she thought was appropriate - shoulders square to the target, one foot in front of the other with the feet wide enough to shift her center of gravity. She grasped the knife around the bottom of the handle as if she were holding a hammer and raised her arm, doing her best to keep her elbow tucked in so that her arm would move in a nice, straight arc. As she expected, the knife bounced from the target with a dull thud.

Tombry responded with a resounding guffaw and a loud smack on his thigh. "Good try, good try, lass! Go on, give the next one a toss!"

Pallas squinted in annoyance at the patronizing tone in the proprietor's voice. She turned her gaze to the remaing two knives in her hands. They were roughly equal in terms of dullness, but one had slightly better balance. With a nod, she opted to save that one for last. Taking the worse of the two in hand, Pallas lined up her shot and gave another throw. The blade sailed in a beautiful arc, ending with its tip striking the target just outside the smallest circle but this one, too, failed to gain purchase and fell to the ground. Pallas grit her teeth at the sound of Tombry's laughter.

"Oh, that was a good throw! But maybe those little arms of yours just lack the strength to get the knife to stick in the target?" Tombry proclaimed.

Without hesitating, Pallas let the last knife fly, burying the blade up to the handle in the center of the smallest circle with a thunderous smack as splinters exploded out the back of the plank. The force of the throw caused the target to rock backwards on its heavy wooden tripod before settling back onto all three feet. She folded her arms across her chest with a self-satisfied smirk. "Guess my arms weren't lacking in strength, after all?"

Tombry's jaw hung agape and even Jerald's eyes widened in shock. A strange silence hung in the air as many heads turned toward the booth, seeking the source of the sound. The stillness was broken by the jubilant shouts of Mickel and Kurtz who pumped their fists into the air and gave celebratory jumps.

"That was AMAZING!" Kurtz cried out, pointing animatedly at the knife target. "How did you DO that?!"

"I'm a bit curious, myself," Jerald admitted quietly. "That was extraordinary."

Tombry, on the other hand, had recovered his composure well enough for the color to return to his cheeks. And then some. With a tone of obvious resentment, he thrust his arm upward toward the nicer hair ornaments and scarves. "THESE," he began emphatically, "are the prizes for a bullseye."

Instead of selecting a prize, however, Pallas bowed graciously. "Clearly, I have offended. You may keep your prizes, I only wished to test these little arms of mine," she said with a smile. "But out of fairness to your customers, I do recommend that you properly sharpen your blades. The only way I could get mine to stick was to put everything I had into it!"

Jerald raised an eyebrow curiously. "Oh, is this true, Tom? Have you been putting your customers at a disadvantage?"

The portly gentleman blanched at the accusations. "No, no, I'd never run a dishonest game!" he said, the words tumbling from his mouth as his hands moved animatedly. The commotion had caused a stir and many of the early-morning onlookers had gathered closer to hear the conversation.

"Oh, really?" Jerald asked with a smile. "Then you wouldn't mind letting me take a closer look at your knives?"

"Well, I cant say as that's necessary, but sure!" Tombry replied, handing over the knife he'd used himself for his demonstration throw.

Jerald looked it over, testing the edge with his calloused fingers and checking its heft by balancing it on his hand. "This one is a fine blade. But what of the rest?" he said, waving a hand at the rest of the knives resting on the counter of the booth.

Tombry hesitated. "You can take a look if you like. I'll admit, I've not kept them up as much as I should, given their use over the years!"

A dark-haired man with a barrel chest and a steely gaze approached, giving Jerald a knowing wink. "You should have said something, Tom! You do us a service, running this game each moon. I'd be happy to sharpen all your blades for you, no charge at all!" With that, the newcomer gathered up all the knives, struggling only a bit with the one still embedded in the target, before any suspicious eyes could give them a glance and lumbered toward the nearest building - one with a picture of an anvil and hammer painted on the wall. With a look over his shoulder, the newcomer exclaimed, "I'll have these done in just a bit! Be right back!"

For his part, Tombry just watched the town smith depart with the sorrowful expression of someone accepting the consequences of a natural disaster. Seeming to collect himself somewhat, he reached up to the prizes on his booth and tugged a lightweight pale green scarf from the clip that held it overhead. On it, a wreath of leaves similar to laurel or bay had been embroidered. He draped it around Pallas's shoulders. "This one suits you best, I think."

"Oh, no, I couldn't accept!" Pallas protested, attempting to slide the delicate scarf from her neck.

Tombry pressed his hands down on hers and gave a thin smile. "A prize for every winner. I insist."

Pallas nodded numbly. "Well, thank you, sir."

Tombry stood back and waved everyone away. "That's it for now, no games until my knives are back! Go on, enjoy the food and the dance!"

Amelinne, who had approached during all the commotion, linked an arm in Pallas's and drew her away. "I leave you alone for just a few moments, and you're already making a scene! What am I going to do with you?"

Pallas laughed wanly in response and looked back over her shoulder at the knife throwing booth. Tombry stood there with his arms folded, his dark expression following her as she walked away. Something about the look on his face caused the small hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end.