Telo drew back his bowstring, breath steady. One last arrow — he needed a heart strike to reach the finals.
The second round of the archery competition followed the same rules as the first: a score of eighty or higher to advance. This time, though, the targets were mounted on wheeled platforms pulled along by ropes, jerking unpredictably as they moved. Each silhouette represented an animal, with a circled "sweet spot" marking a vital zone — different for each type, chosen at random.
A mountain ram flashed across the range thirty meters away. Telo exhaled, pulled — and the string slipped from his fingers. His last arrow shot downrange awkwardly.
"Shit…" He closed his eyes, ready to curse his luck.
"Telomere of the Redfox Clan — heart strike! Final score: eighty!" The judge's voice rang out over the line of competitors.
Telo blinked, then broke into a grin. "Eighty?" He turned just in time to catch Ai's look — her scorecard read seventy-eight.
Ai pressed her lips together, then smiled graciously. "That was well shot, Telo."
He laughed. "It slipped out of my hand."
Ai gave him a quick hug. "Sometimes luck's better than skill."
"Right?" He beamed, already looking toward the judges' table. He was the seventh and final qualifier. The clear favorites, Tam and Reyka, had once again posted perfect hundreds. "So what are my chances of winning?"
Ai snorted. "Zero. But you might snag top five."
Telo slung his bow over one shoulder. "I'll take it. Want to walk with me?"
Ai nodded. "Sure. I was too nervous this year — missed two dead center."
Telo stopped at the check-out table to claim his scorecard, tucking it into his belt as they walked.
Riverside
On the far side of camp, Dem swam with a group of tribals — a mix of clans, laughter echoing off the water. Rave's pale hair was easy to spot among them; she was never far from his side.
"Find one?" Dem asked as the Frostridge girl surfaced, slicking back her wet blond hair.
Rave nodded, holding up a striped shell. "Just a standard blue-and-green."
The group was combing a stretch of the river known for its river crabs. When the creatures died, their shells faded through shades of blue, green, crimson, even bright yellow — a scavenger's treasure, depending on the age of the shell.
The muddy bottom made the water cloudy, so finding the bright shells was done mostly by touch.
Rave watched as Dem dove again, cutting through the water with unhurried grace. He could hold his breath nearly three times longer than anyone else in the group. She dove after him, moving deliberately closer, dragging her foot along the silt to stir up more mud.
A firm hand clamped around her ankle. She squealed underwater, bubbles spilling from her mouth, and surfaced a second later laughing — her captured foot still in Dem's grasp.
"I was teasing!" she gasped between giggles.
Dem released her with a smirk. "I saw something bright too. Next time I'm keeping the foot."
Rave arched a pale brow. "You did? Then it's mine!"
Before he could answer, she dove under again, hands sweeping the murky bottom.
Dem sighed, amused, and followed — the river swallowing them both in a haze of green light and drifting silt.
**
Dem was the last to leave the river. Rave had already gone, surrounded by her Frostridge kin, after arranging a walk for later.
"We meet again, Dem."
Elsie strolled along the bank barefoot, her knee-high black boots slung over one shoulder. The late sun shimmered on the river's surface, casting ripples of gold against her dark curls.
"Not by chance," Dem said easily. "You've been standing on the far bank for half an hour."
Elsie tilted her head. "Did you see me?"
"Something like that." Dem smiled faintly. "Was that why you waited?"
Elspeth nodded, stepping closer. "Mamar asked me to invite you to the performance tonight. There'll even be fireworks."
"That does sound fun," Dem admitted.
"You could ask someone special to sit with you," Elsie said, her voice teasing, eyes bright.
Dem nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe I'll ask my Gram."
The answer made her pause. A softer look crossed her face, something like surprise. "Hmmm… not what I expected." She recovered with a grin. "How long does the Gathering usually last?"
"It varies," Dem said. "Two or three weeks, usually. The shamans decide when it's done."
"Where'd you learn your street skills?" Elsie asked, smiling again. "You can pick locks too, right?"
"You ask a lot of questions," Dem countered lightly. "Is Mamar your mother?"
Elsie blinked, caught off guard. "How did you know? A guess?"
"Doesn't 'Mamar' mean mother?" he asked.
Her eyes widened, and she leaned in, voice dropping to a playful whisper. "If you dare tell me you speak our tongue, I'll snatch you up and vanish into the night."
Dem laughed. "Good luck with that."
Elsie twirled once, skirts flaring like firelight. "We'll save you a spot," she called over her shoulder, humming as she walked away.
Later, at Camp
Dem's family sat near the cookfire, laughter carrying through the Swiftwind camp as they shared their meal.
"Am I late?" he asked, brushing a strand of wet hair from his forehead.
Ai shook her head, smiling. "Allow me." She filled a plate with steamed vegetables, adding a cut of roasted fowl. "There's more if you want seconds."
Dem accepted it with a grateful nod. Even after days among the tribals, he still wasn't used to the sheer size of their meals. "Thanks."
"Were you shell diving?" Yada asked.
Dem nodded. He didn't bother asking how she already knew—gossip in the Gathering traveled faster than the wind. "Nothing special. Found a few nice shells—maybe I'll make a bracelet."
"I didn't advance to the final round," Ai announced, trying to sound nonchalant. She'd asked them not to watch, too nervous under familiar eyes.
"I heard you were close," Dem said, encouraging.
"So did I," Yada agreed. "Next year for sure, Ai."
Ai raised a fist dramatically. "That damn Telo beat me!"
Dem laughed. "Barely, from what I heard."
"Mm-hmm." Gram grinned. "You two are competitive as cats."
Dem glanced around the fire. "We should all go to the Traveler performance tonight. There's going to be fireworks."
Yada's eyes brightened. "Really? It's been years since I've seen any."
Gram snorted. "Remember when Dern brought some back before he was Huntmaster?"
Yada laughed. "He burned down the clan chief's tent! Revan chased him halfway across camp with a stick."
"Somehow he survived," Gram said dryly, still smiling. "All right. We'll all go."
Dem smiled into the firelight, feeling the warmth that had nothing to do with the flames. For the first time in years, the night ahead promised only peace.
A short while later, Dem waited outside while the women of his family occupied the tent, apparently deciding their usual clothes were "unfit" for fireworks at the Gathering.
Ai was the first to emerge, beaming as she kissed his cheek before twirling to show off.
She wore a long traditional dress the tribals called a duva. The fabric was soft, simple in cut, but covered in intricate beadwork that shimmered in the lamplight. Earth tones framed her dark hair and tanned complexion perfectly.
"You look nice, dasai," Dem said, smiling.
Ai's grin widened, though her eyes glistened for a moment. She remembered that first night in Thaigmaal—how he'd fallen from the sky, hitting the cobbled street so hard the sound had haunted her dreams. In her heart, it had felt like the world had taken pity on her broken Swiftwind family and sent them a miracle in the shape of a boy.
She blinked back the memory and smiled again. "We're proud you asked us instead of one of your 'friends.'"
Dem chuckled. "Which friends? I probably would've gone with Telo."
"Hmmm." Ai crossed her arms, feigning suspicion. "Not one of the Frostridge girls?"
"Something wrong with the Frostridge girls?" Dem asked, his tone all innocence.
"They have a reputation," Ai said primly. "And it isn't good."
Dem made a serious face, as though pondering deep tribal secrets. "You know, the Swiftwind women have a reputation too."
Ai's eyes widened. "Us? A reputation? We're pillars of the earth! Everyone knows this." Then curiosity won out. "What do they say?"
"That you're very prickly," Dem said, keeping a straight face. "Like a rose garden."
"Prickly?" Ai put a hand over her heart, mock-offended. "I'll have you know, dasai, I'm as sweet as sunshine."
Dem snorted, raising both hands in surrender. "Of course, dosu."
Yada and Gram exited the tent a few minutes later, both in duva dresses of similar make. The beads caught the firelight, glowing like tiny stars.
"So beautiful," Dem said genuinely. "I'll have to keep a close eye on you three. Wouldn't want one of those Travelers running off with you."
Gram smiled slyly as she took his arm. "Maybe give him a small head start. I wouldn't want to miss a lively night."
"Gram…" Dem laughed, half-scandalized. "You're not leaving my sight!"
The three women laughed, linking arms with him as the campfire light flickered over their faces—family, blood and chosen, heading out into the Gathering's night.