Rhob was humming, though he admittedly struggled to hear himself above the crowd. Green mohawk flopping with the swiftness of his movements, the short, muscular wick cook was putting the finishing touches on his table of delectable lunch creations. The breeze carried the warm, spicy aroma of his offerings through the square that had been cleared for the gathering of tribes for a huge dinner together.

His wife, Val, smiled at the busy, tattooed man from her seat on the ground behind the various foods, nursing their newest addition, born only yesterday. She'd wanted to help with the cooking, but Rhob had enlisted their other three bochi instead. It was a rather comical but fun-filled affair that had resulted in only slightly lopsided, noticeably lumpy rolls of sweet breads, but luckily the green-haired wick had managed the rest of the cooking for his clan of the Falling Stone tribe himself.

Now, as the sun was lengthening shadows across the isle and the ocean was cooling the breezes, all the tribes and their various dishes had been set up and assembled. The square itself was a spot littered with a few trees and blankets, stretching for quite some distance. While it certainly couldn't hold everyone who had come to attend the Festival, it was an impressive swath of space, with a low rise of a hill on one side and plenty of room for mingling and eating.

On top of the hill, a small gathering of wicks had set up their instruments. Each member of the group appeared to be from a different tribe. There was even a Yellow Eye and a Red Crow, playing together, making their statement through music. A few bochi, at least one of them Rhob's, had already started dancing to their tunes.

Overall, it was still a peaceful scene, one made only more ideal by the delicious offerings spread out on tables, waiting to be sampled and enjoyed.

Jirin could smell the delicious food from all the way on the other side of camp - or, at least she imagined she could. The short, pink-haired witch practically tore through the camp to be the first in line, and when she reached the table, smiling at Rhob and tipping her bowler hat at him.

"Evenin'!" she said brightly, clapping her fellow Stone on the shoulder. "Smells lov- ohhhhhh, is that the baby?"

Her face lit up like the blaze of dawn as she hurried over to Val, cooing and making the silly sorts of noises that women make around babies. "Oh, so precious!" she cried, gasping in delight. "Val, she's beautiful! She has Rhob's nose, look! Have you decided on a name, yet?"

Val smiled and blushed at the attention, watching Rhob grin proudly and puff his chest a little out of the corner of her eye. She shook her head at Jirin, "Ne, not yet. We ... we wanted to wait until after the memorial for all them wicks in Vienda. Just to pay our respects. Rhob seems to think we'll have a good name by then instead of now."

The green-haired cook chuckled and shrugged shyly, glancing at his food before looking back to his wife and infant, "I just wanted those folks to feel cared for, an' it ent my fault you were a little early, love."

The witch smirked back and rolled her eyes, smiling back at Jirin, "I'd say we have a few in mind, but we'll see who gets to decide." Val winked secretively, implying she had already done so but was holding out for the right moment to help Rhob realize that the name was certainly his idea and it was lovely.

"You'll let me know when you do," said Jirin firmly. "I want to pay my respects at the naming ceremony, and if I get started ahead of time I can embroider you a nice amauti with her name on...look at her tiny little fingers! Oh, bless it, wouldn't I love to be a mum myself. Our tribe's runnin' low on the available men-folk, it is."

Jirin's ebullience seemed to know no limits, even as she spoke about her chronic singleness. The baby seemed to have that effect on her.

"Need any help, then, Rhob?" she asked, tearing her eyes away from the bright-eyed child with a great show of willpower.

Val smiled warmly and laughed, "Mujo ma. We'll be sure to let you know." She added teasingly, shaking her head, "Yer here on Surwood an' yer complainin' about a shortage of men-folk? Pshaw, beata, they're fallin' outta kints everywhere 'round here. Ye can take yer pick."


"Only help eatin' it now!" Grinned the tattooed cook, wiping his hands on the leather apron he wore. It was hand-embroidered by Val herself, and while it was in rather poor hand, the words 'Kiss the Cook' were still legible in bright green thread.

"Although, I ent gonna lie, my garmon sausages are a heck'ov'a'lot spicier than last year." Rhob beamed, "So, consider yerself warned, ye chen?"

"Oh, no, throw me in that warvine patch," exclaimed Jirin, chuckling. "Come on, what blue-blooded wick don't love spicy food?"

Dipping into the pot with a ladle, she extracted a bit of sausage and popped it into her mouth. Instantly, she began to sweat, and she fanned her mouth with a pained expression.

"Whooo!" she said. "You weren't kiddin'! Might need me an ale or two...oh god, that's hot..."

It had been three days since Annie found out she was legally homeless, and she still wasn't quite sure how she felt about it. Not having a 'kint' of her own, as the other wicks would say, she'd been staying here and there with various families, voluntarily cleaning dishes and clothes in return for a bunk or some floorspace. She hadn't met any opposition yet, but was growing tired of wooden floors. She missed her fedora. She missed her typewriter. She missed her bed.

She walked slowly towards the 'group dinner' she'd heard about from the lady who's floor she camped on the night previous, her face reflective of how she felt about the whole situation. Where there was usually a broadly confident smile, there was worry. The other wicks all had time t'get used to it all, she thought. Family t'take 'em in an' such. I only got me. Just thinking about it caused a tear to spill over onto her cheek, quickly traveling down toward her chin.

Jirin waved enthusiastically as people began to arrive to the dinner. There were only a few people right now, but soon the place would be bustling with hungry wicks.

While looking around for more of her friends, she spotted a lonesome-looking witch, a girl with mousy brown hair and a pained expression. If there was ever a person more in need of some of Rhob's delicious cooking, she'd never met one. Taking an extra bowl of Surwood Curry, she headed over in her direction and smiled winsomely.

"Junta!" she said, announcing herself on Annie's right. The girl was clearly not from any tribe; her lack of foe and her clothes gave that away plain as day, but still, she was a witch, and wicks stuck together. "You look hungry, and there's nothin' better for that than this."

She sat the bowl down at a nearby table and motioned Annie over. "Try it! It's the best this side of the Fen, promise!"

The pink-haired wick startled Annie out of her thoughts. "Huh, wha? Oh. Erm, thankee." The former reporter took a seat at the table next to Jirin. "Smells right, erm, boemo." She flashed the girl a smile before taking a mouthful. Not being one for the hot foods, even the mild spices in the curry made Annie's eyes start watering.

"Phaw! What'd ye do, dump erry piece o' hot on the island into this? Shoo! Tha's some spicy stuff!" Annie fanned at her mouth, beads of sweat springing up on her forehead. They don' make food like this in Vienda, that's fer sure, she thought.

Annie looked at the girl sitting next to her, blushing slightly at her slight outburst. "I mean, erm, it's good. Do ye got any water er somethin'?"

Whatever shall I choose?

Xanadu meandered around the tables laden with food of all varieties. It all smelled delicious, but as usual she was looking for something rather fiery. She sometimes thought she had ruined her taste buds with her penchant for hot dishes. Milder fare tasted boring and bland. Sweet foods, such as cakes and cookies, had never interested her. Sugar gave her headaches.

The young mercenary/dancer had arrived at the dinner a bit early, wanting to beat the crowds. It wasn't that she didn't like crowds; they were great for getting lost in when you were being pursued. She just preferred to have a lot of choice, and she thought that the best dishes would probably go fast.

She looked over at the musicians playing on the hill. The music was quite good. Without realizing it, her hips began moving in a figure eight in time with the tune, the skirt of her long red dress floating around her and the sheaths of the six knives on her belt occasionally bumping into each other.

She wouldn't mind dancing after she had eaten. I wonder if someone will ask me, she thought. She knew some men found her a bit formidable, probably having to do with the fact that she was always armed. If not, I'll just dance by myself. It is one of the things I do for a living, after all.

A particularly enticing smell wafted over her. Mmmmm .... curry ... spicy, but not too much so. A great dish to start with. She followed her nose in the direction of the aroma. There were already quite a few people sitting and eating, but she didn't see anyone she knew.

At one table, she noticed two young women sitting together. The one with the brown hair looked as if she had just eaten something a bit too hot for her. Xanadu knew that look well. It had crossed her own face more than once.



She could not help but hear the girl's last comment. Plucking a glass of water from a nearby table full of drinks, she walked over and handed it to her. “Here," she said, smiling sympathetically. "Drink up."

She realized that the smell of their stew was the smell by which she had been so enticed. She smiled at both of them, hoping she wasn't butting in on a private moment. She was always a bit uncomfortable in social situations, especially with strangers. “If you don't mind my asking ...where did you get that curry? It smells absolutely wonderful.”

Jirin looked a little hurt by Annie's reaction; she had purposefully chosen the mildest curry available! But she supposed not everyone was a fan of spicy food. She was apologizing profusely when Xanadu approached.



The witch grinned, pointing over to where Rhob was doling out bowls of the delicious food. "Slow cooked, all day. Rhob's the straight benny at yats. Why don't you sit with us?" She seemed happy to have someone to talk to; this was the first break she'd had all day.

Turning back to Annie, she bit her lip. "Sorry again about that curry," she said again. "I forget sometimes, not everybody has the spice tooth. Where you from, beata? You have a Tors nose!"

Leon walked through the crowd, his unbuttoned blazer flowing behind him. Leon hadn't eaten anything since the day before. Right when he thought he would collapse due to starvation, he smelled it, Curry.

As he made his way to the food he couldnt help but think that the chef looked oddly familiar as if he had met him before. As Leon approached the green haired wick he realized were he new him from he was part of his mothers old tribe. He had seen this wick when he first delivered letters to his mothers family two years ago.

" Hesta, I see you have some very beautiful food here, may i have some." Leon said very politely, even though he new it was free.

"Junta, kov. It's been a few maw, but I ent one to forget a face. Ye been to visit yer daoa? How's yer da doin'?" Rhob grinned broadly, tattooed arms moving fluidly as he spoke, snatching up a clay bowl and filling it generously with a mix of steamed grains before adding a few heaping pours of his rich, dark, obviously spicy curry.

The short cook nodded his head across the square, toward the stalls of the Tall Tree tribe, "If ye want somethin' good to go with my curry, ye'd best wander over to the Trees and get yerself some of their flatbread'njam. Then, ye need to go over an' get a heapin' servin' of—"

"Rhob! Let the poor boy eat what he wants to," Val, his wife, spoke up from her seat on the ground behind the table of food. She laughed and stood, having tucked their newest child securely into a sling across her front, leaving her hands free to help serve once the crowds came, "I'm sure if he's hungry, he'll get his fill."

The brown-haired witch grinned at Leon, "Don't mind, Rhob, kov. You go on and enjoy your meal."

Leon almost felt the tears well up when Rhob mentioned his father. Leon's father died two years ago and he still wept over it now and again.

"Sadly." Leon said with uncharacteristic frown.

"My da died two years ago." Leon Tried with all his might to hold back the tears, Leon and his dad were very close, and he felt his death was untimely.

Leon decided that he would shield his tears with the curry. As soon as Rhob put down the bowl he new that this would be the perfect shield.

Oh clock, that smells hot.

After Rhob was scolded by his wife, Leon took his first spoonful, and boy was it hot. Finally Leon let the tears go knowing Rhob would think it was the curry.

"Thanks!" Annie gulped down half the glass of water in one chug. "Whew! Needed that!"

Annie laughed, a real laugh, for the first time in three days. "'Sallrigh', I just ain't used to it. It really is good, just warmer'n my mouth thought it'd be." Annie took another bite of curry, chewing and swallowing quickly, followed by another large gulp of water. She wasn't just eating to make the girl feel better, it really was tasty. Just...hot.

"Where'm I from? Well, dunno really. Raised outside o' Dorhaven by an old Seer lady, but moved to Vienda 'bout nine er so years back." She touched her nose gingerly, crossing her eyes to look down at it. "Dunno what a Tors nose is, but I hope it ain't nothin scary." With all these wicks here, it might be a possibility my pap is too. Now that'd be an investigation I'd like t'follow.

"Oh. Sorry to hear it, an' sorry to bring it up there, kov." Rhob frowned a little, apologetically, before finding something to do with his hands awkwardly. He set to re-arranging some things on his table, perhaps because he felt bad.

"Anyways," Rhob looked back up to see Leon struggling with his curry, "Toasty, oes? Like I said ... there's that flatbread'n'jam down the way there." He whispered the last sentence, pointing with a nod of his mohawked head, "Really compliments the hot, if'n'ye ask me."

The tattooed cook grinned, as if he'd shared a secret, then straightened and wiped his hands on his apron, "Y'here by yerself this year?"

Leon listened as if he knew this tatooed wick his whole life. Leon could see himself becoming a lifelong friend with this man.



"Ya, my daoa has grown sick, but hopefully she'll get better. I am here with my kenser Lester, you remember him right, all the kids in your tribe were all over him. Well i see you ain't alone this year, is that your wife and child." Leon said to Rhob, gesturing for some more curry.

“You're welcome,” Xanadu replied.



Xanadu looked over to the table the pink-haired witch indicated and saw a man with a green mohawk dishing out bowls of stew. There were so many bright hair colors around here. She felt positively drab. She missed dying her hair just as she missed traveling around with her tribe. In a way she wished she could take up the wick lifestyle again, but she felt her life was moving in a different direction.

“I'd love to sit with you,” she told the girl. “Let me get some of that curry, and I'll be right back.”

She walked back to the drink table and picked up another glass of water, just in case the curry was hotter than she expected it to be. Going back to the table with the curry, she saw that a man with black and white hair was conversing with the cook. She wanted to ask for the hottest curry he had, but she didn't want to interrupt. Instead, she sniffed the aroma of the bowls on the table, trying to figure out which one was the spiciest.

Rhob laughed, pausing to doll out another helping of curry for Leon before looking over to Val and their youngest in her brightly colored sling, "Oes, well, it ent like th'babe's my first. The other three are prolly up on the hill, jawin' at the musicians by now." He grinned, squinting up to the hill as he did so, confident he could at least spot Mel or Kai, but sure Renie wouldn't be too far away. Even though he and his wife had a few differences when it came to child-rearing practices—Rhob was obviously the soft one in all things but the spice of his curries—they'd all turned out alright so far.

The green-haired cook noticed the woman sniffing his curries, and his grin broadened, "Watch yer nose o'er that one." He pointed a tattooed arm in the general direction of a darker green concoction, "It's like fire for yer face."

Val chuckled, "Y'mean they all aren't?"

"Oh now, ye know that ent true. I make some ... er ... mild ones ... sometimes." He was sheepish, "Just not today. What can I get for ye?"

"Tors nose, you know, like you're from the Tors," supplied Jirin with a grin. "An' I probably shoulda asked this before, but I'm Jirin Itsa, what's your name?"

She glanced over to see Rhob talking to someone she didn't recognize. They seemed familiar enough; perhaps he'd been a member of the tribe before she joined.

Leon took off his striped blazer and bowler hat to get more comfortable. He had already gottten some curry on the sides of his face and was wiping it off. He could already feel the curry messing up his stomach.

"So you have three do you, well plus the newborn. Is it alot of hard work." He said as he took another bite of curry, it was starting to lose ots heat with every bite."I have actually been wishing for a child myself, most likely at the next wick festival i'll have a son with me." Leon said as joyously as he could.

"If'n I knew what er where the Tors was er is, I'd maybe agree," Annie said with a laugh. She offered her hand to Jirin. "The name's Annie November, an' I'm pleased ter meetcha." Another bite, another gulp. Annie almost needed more water. "An' thankee again fer the curry."

"The more the merrier, I say! We'll be keepin' the seat warm fer ye."

Xanadu looked from Rhob to his wife and the baby she held. It was quite a pretty child. She had to admit she was sometimes envious of people with children. In the deepest part of her heart, she longed for another baby, but she was too afraid that it would die young as Glorie had done. Another such loss would certainly kill her.

And she really didn't want to raise another child alone. Children needed both a mother and a father. If there was someone out there who was meant for her, he was eluding her. And he will continue to do so if you keep scaring everyone who is interested in you away.

It was a defense mechanism, she supposed. As long as she didn't allow anyone close to her, she wouldn't be hurt again.

She pulled her eyes from the baby and looked at Rhob. “That's a beautiful baby,” she said, a sad smile on her face. “And I'll take the hottest curry you have.” She had meant to start with something milder, but she'd changed her mind. It was difficult to dwell on your sorrows when your throat was on fire. She wanted something that would sear away the anguish in her soul.

As she waited for her bowl, she couldn't help but hear Leon's next words.



So this man was to have a child as well. "Congratulations," she said to him. "Children are such a joy." She looked from Leon to Rhob, including them both in her next words. "Cherish every moment you have with them."

Cherish every moment because you never know when they might be taken away. The mercenary fervently hoped that both Rhob's child and Leon's would live to reach adulthood. She did not wish anyone to go through the pain that she had endured these past five years.

Snap out of it, Xana, she told herself. You didn't come here to mourn; you came to have fun. Nothing you do will bring Glorie back. It's time you lived in the present instead of in the past.

"Ah, the Tors, that's what we call Northern Anaxas," said Jirin. "Rolling hills and some ancient barrows. Real benny place. I guess no one but us spokes go there, really."

She paused to take a bite of her own curry. "I'm from Falling Stone, but we don't head there but once a year or so.. not too many villages up there, an' most of the money's around the farmlands an' cities. You from Vienda, then?"

Annie nodded, chewing. She'd gotten used to the heat, but had lost her sense of taste.

"Aye, Vienda. Lived an' worked there since I was 17, at least. Been on the road a bit o' late, though. Bit o' travelin' here an' there an' the like. Seems I left in the nick o' time, though. I ran into an ol' friend o' mine from home an' found out the wicks ain't allowed in town no more. Sommat about 'em bein' kicked out by the Seventen an' such." More chewing. "'Sallrigh', I guess. I been wantin' t'get back to me roots a bit, maybe find out where I really come from an' all. Ain't never met me parents, so I dunno what tribe I'm from. It'd be nice to find that out. Maybe meet me pap, erm, da." Annie smiled at Jirin.

"Whorrabout you? Which tribe ye from, then?"