SeaCrest-Star

Winter had been harsh this year; the ground was so thoroughly frozen that even without the patina of ice on the hard-packed dirt, it was slippery and unforgiving. Maia slid a little with every step, although she knew that all too soon, the ground would be covered in fresh-fallen snow, a brief respite from the slick surface but the herald of even more bitterly cold days as the snow thawed during the day and froze again overnight. She wasn't worried, though. She knew where home was, and had been warm and safe in her little cave, sharing it with a shroomkin clan and her best friend, Opal, before she had ventured out into the biting cold. Filling her lungs with air so cold that her lungs spasmed a little at the onslaught, Maia raised her face to the chill winds and closed her eyes, letting the wind tangle her mane and rip flowers from her crown. This was just the beginning of the storm, flecked with gentle flurries of snow and ice crystals so tiny you only noticed them when they struck

Guinefyr breathed in the salt-laden air one last time, looking out over the empty beach with its strange rock formations and complete lack of other creatures, magical or otherwise. Perhaps she had been wrong; perhaps this was not the place to seek her answers. Perhaps she had misremembered the stories, and the Lightning Master did not make their home here. Perhaps the stories had been wrong, and they had never existed at all. Closing her eyes, Guinefyr let her frustrations fade, envisioning them trickling away like rainwater and letting herself regain her usual stoic calm. She had taken a gamble, and it had not paid off. She had not found the Lightning Master. Instead, she had taken a trip, exploring new land and meeting several new shroomkin friends, and seen new sights, like the strange rock formations here, at the northernmost beach of Silkkassa. She had successfully avoided her mother, and anyone who knew her mother, giving her the space that they both needed. Exhaling, Guinefyr

The harness still felt itchy, no matter how many times Warren adjusted the straps. Meeri had been practicing, of course, but she had never had a harness on until this month, and this was her first day of pulling the wagon alongside Naia for any prolonged period of time—there had been no reason to go further than twenty minutes from Tuil, which was only a forty minute round trip with a break in the middle, and was definitely no match for the much longer journey from Tuil to Gebrul. It would be the furthest north Meeri had ever gone, and they were planning to winter there, unless the weather was good enough to make it to Sakara before spring. That wasn't the plan, though, and Meeri wondered if she truly understood what she had signed herself up for. She had never spent so long in the presence of humans; volunteering to take Su's place was uncharacteristically impulsive of her, and Meeri wasn't actually convinced that humans weren't all bad. But these humans seemed to be all right; they

Living near the edge of Tuil meant that Meeri was familiar with the usual goings-on of the human village. This colourful panopoly, however, was entirely out of the norm. They weren't even at the village yet, only passing through the forest on the wait to Tuil from someplace southwest of the village, but they were certainly attracting a lot of attention from the residents of the forest. The wild herds outside Tuil were buzzing with the news of their arrival, and it was from one of the locals that Meeri first learned about the Matka Ihme. "They're, well, a sort of traveling festival," Lyra explained. "They dance, and play music, and tell stories. Humans elkh both, although I've not actually seen the elkh tell their own stories, only dance or act out the stories the humans tell. They don't come every year, so I'm not surprised that you haven't heard of them before." Meeri eyed the colourful trailers and the brightly-clothed humans that accompanied them. They seemed to be dressed oddly

Guinefyr stood atop the sand-covered rocks that overlooked the beach, her heart thumping a slow, steady rhythm that matched the waves crashing against the shore. The air was salty and cold, stinging her eyes and nostrils, reminding her that winter was nigh, and that she was far further north than she had any right to be…yes, this was her mother's territory by tacit agreement, and Guinefyr certainly would not have come so far north under normal circumstances. But the story of the Lightning Master had stuck with her all summer long, through a dozen storms and many restless nights spent feeling, with unnecessary urgency, that she had to discover the truth of the Lightning Master to soothe some part of her that was still a tiny fawn, devouring stories of the Lightning Master while huddling against the warm bulk of her mother. There was a truth here—there had to be—and as summer reached its peak, it felt almost as if this story, this legend, was not only consuming her thoughts, but

The soft, cloying scent of decay hung in the air like fog on an early spring morning, coating Guinefyr's throat and tongue with a layer of rotting perfume as she stepped beneath the draping boughs of a fir and examined the unfortunate tableau before her. A deer's carcass lay at the base of the tree, its flesh so rotten that the bones of its ribcage were exposed, and most of its face. It was sprawled there, in such an awkward position, that it was not difficult to tell that it had quite literally died where it stood, collapsing in death before it could try to save itself. Human arrowshafts riddled the corpse, telling the story of how it died, but not why it had lain here unclaimed. There were marks of scavengers on and around the body, but none of large predators, which Guinefyr might have expected. Barely a young adult, Guinefyr had known her share of death, and this scene was upsetting not because of the deer's demise, but because of the human cause. Such waste! Why had they not

Wisteria adjusted her belt, shifting the pouch she carried further to her right so that it didn't impede her walking motion as much. It was heavy, but that wasn't surprising, given that it was filled with pebbles that she had learned to throw with deadly force. It had originally been to knock loose shingles off the roof of her cottage, ones that were so precariously balanced that it would have been dangerous to climb up and remove them. Once they had been cleared out, it was safe enough to re-roof her little cottage with slate tile, which was much longer-lasting and didn't require as much maintenance as wooden shingles. Over time, however, she had gotten skilled enough to hunt small game with her pebbles, and now she used it as a weapon as much as a tool. Unfortunately, it did mean she had to keep a ready supply of pebbles with her if she didn't want to be caught empty-handed in a dangerous situation. Ahead of her, Isenia brushed aside a leafy branch, flicking her long tail to free it

The Haunted House certainly looked the part. Wisteria looked up at it and shivered; the darkened windows, covered from inside by some black fabric or paper, gave no hint to the contents within, while the purposefully decrepit outer shell exuded an air of long disuse. This was untrue, of course; the House had been built specifically to house the Haunted House every year, and Wisteria had passed it by several times before in the off season, when it looked far less threatening than it did now with its draping cobwebs and flickering lanterns. The sideboards that peeled and dangled from the walls were fake; the jagged end of the broken porch support beam was structurally sound and had never been load bearing. She knew all this, but it was spooky all the same. Isenia looped her arm through Wisteria's. "It'll be fun!" she said, smiling easily. Her long, streaked hair curled against her cheeks, peeking out from under her appropriately witchy hat. They were all dressed appropriately for the

Wisteria eyed the signpost dubiously. "It's corn. How hard can it be?" she asked, watching as other kebanzu entered the maze. "Wouldn't you just see right through the stalks?" Nat shook their head, smiling. "No, they plant them quite thickly, so even if you tried it'd be pretty hard. Corn leaves are also sharp, so forcing your way through would probably hurt!" It was a golden afternoon, a little chilly in the shade but quite warm in the sunlight, and Wisteria inhaled deeply, straightening up. The corn was quite tall, reaching over her head even while in her bipedal form. She could just touch the tops if she stretched up on her toes, although Nat, being somewhat taller, could simply reach up and grab one without straining. At their gesture, Wisteria preceded Nat, entering the maze and immediately turning right, smiling a little at the hand-painted sign at the entrance. It had a little scarecrow painted on it, along with the words "Good Luck!" The maze turned left, and dutifully

SeaCrest-Star (307 words) Ilyla tossed her head as Zari adjusted her halter for what felt like the fiftieth time, her nerves making her much more fidgety than usual. Zari, that is, not Ilyla. Ilyla was perfectly calm, if a little annoyed at Zari's constant fussing. Essey laid a calming hand on Zari's arm. They had gotten up early to give Ilyla a proper bath, with a special shampoo that made her fur even softer and silkier than usual, then brushed her and combed her longer fur. Her halter was not, technically speaking, a practical halter that would help in a situation where she ran off, but given how self-possessed Ilyla was, that seemed like a remote possibility. Zari had braided cream cord and gold thread in a four-strand braid for the base of the halter, and then added slender gold tassels to the temple, cheek, and nose joints of the halter, hastily crafted from Essey's leftover thread the night before. She had then pinned one of Essey's gold butterfly pins at Ilyla's left temple.

Tears Are Shed Emmy startled as Zari slumped against the stall door beside her. The nikyak she was grooming looked back at her with one liquid brown eye, concerned by the sudden cessation of the brushing. "Are you okay?" Emmy asked, lowering her brush. "Is Fluffers too much? We can swap—" "He's running around the paddock like it's some kind of game," Zari grumbled, exasperated. Emmy stifled a laugh. "You have to treat him like a toddler," she explained, resuming her grooming. "If you stop chasing him, he'll get bored quickly." Zari looked nonplussed. "I…I've never dealt with toddlers…" "Never…?" Emmy stared at her, and then realized that Zari had probably never had much to do with the youngest urchins that Essey took in and sponsored; she was more comfortable with the older children, those who were old enough to know what street fighting was, and knew the consequences of losing. Those children resonated more with her, because she'd been like them, once. Toddlers rarely survived

SeaCrest-Star (440 words) Closing her eyes, Zari listened to Essey rustling around with something in the room beyond the curtain, and began to doze. She hoped that Essey had missed the new apron she'd been working on among her things; she'd been working on it in secret for weeks, and while Essey had to have an idea that something was up (for Zari had had to get her to stand still to take measurements to make sure everything was just right), hopefully she wasn't sure what the end product was. Like all the aprons Zari had made Essey over the years, this one was made up of a sturdy canvas cloth, cut exactly the right length, but this one was lined with soft cotton, and the straps were nearly twice as wide to make sure they comfortably distributed the weight of the apron and anything Essey wanted to store in the pockets, as well as the tools that Zari had purchased and fitted into the apron. They were some of the most common things Essey used in the kitchen, that could just be wiped down

SeaCrest-Star (449 words) It was early afternoon when Zari, Essey, Fluffers, and Ilyla reached Aldlight, the Amiyn capital city and the hub for the Amiyn Winter Festival and all its assorted events. The winter sunlight was bright and white against the snow that blanketed the city already, and Zari and Essey were both very thankful for their quilted jackets and sturdy boots. Ilyla was bearing the cold surprisingly well, which perhaps shouldn't have been a surprise at all, given that she had, presumably, been born here; this was where Zari had first found her, during the rebuilding efforts after the war. The city was filled with woolynes hurrying about, and Zari tugged Fluffers to a stop so that Essey could consult the street signs. The nikyak had been eerily well-behaved, almost as if he were another nikyak entirely, and Zari made sure she kept a firm grip on the reins in case he decided that he had behaved for long enough. "Redwood Inn, right?" Essey asked, squinting at the sign. "Yes

SeaCrest-Star (197 words) Essey's bakery kitchen was filled with the smell of warm, sugary treats. Every flat, horizontal surface was covered in baked goods—sugar cookies, freshly baked, fruitcakes, fruit tarts, gingerbread cookies, individual hand pies, molasses cookies, sugar window cookies...Essey had been baking for days, and while Zari had done her best to help, she wasn't nearly as efficient as Essey was. Besides, she had also been busy herself, finishing handkerchiefs, shawls, scarves, and ribbons to wrap their treat baskets in. They were going to pack everything up and haul it to Aldlight, where they would give them out to old friends they had met during the rebuilding efforts, or to new friends they met along the way. After all, Queen Rue's decree that the festival activities be expanded meant that there would be plenty of opportunities to meet new woolyne, particularly during the elkin parade and other events, where Zari would be entering Ilyla into as many shows as she

Bathing Attempts… "So…how do you think we get Fluffers out of there?" Zari and Essey watched the nikyak in question rolling around in the mud. Emmy had asked for their help, but she really hadn't given them much in the way of guidance, only warning them that Fluffers, while generally agreeable about baths, was easily distracted. Zari had thought that she had been overly anxious when she had been giving them directions, but now she thought she understood. "Treats?" Essey suggested doubtfully. Neither of them particularly fancied wrangling the nikyak into place, but it was hard to picture getting his attention long enough to coax him into the bathing area. Trying to bathe him while standing in the mud would be counterproductive as soon as they tried to move around again. The nikyak rolled to his feet, giving himself a shake and sending clots of mud flying. Zari winced, glad they were standing out of range, and then picked up the bell that Emmy had given them. "He should come at the

They were in (allegedly) dangerous waters now, and the pod seemed to know it, clustering together even more tightly than before, until Aris was reasonably sure that she could have jumped from one selpie's shell to another without any trouble at all. Given their nervousness, she had taken the liberty of arming the harpoon launchers mounted to the rails of her boat, and her handheld one, more like a crossbow than anything else. She held it comfortably as she scanned the water, letting Darkward pull the boat by means of a rope connected to a harness, which in turn was secured to his shell through a number of hooks so that it was a little more secure in the water. Bonnie had assured her that the hooks were cemented on with a special glue, and not actually drilled through the bone to anchor them; so long as the rope was tethered properly and the harness was not damaged, the system shouldn't cause too much strain for Darkward, although his overall top speed would be slower, with the added

Aris's boat was small, easily handled by one woolyne alone, and perfect for accompanying the migrating selpies without disturbing them. She had chosen not to borrow one of Bonnie's selpies to ride primarily because of her supplies; parchment and ink didn't do well when wet, and she had her own food supplies on board rather than fishing for her food. This allowed her to keep a sharp eye out on the selpies themselves, and any potential dangers. Bonnie was travelling with her own pod, completely at home in the water, but the idea of being wet for several days straight was…well, Aris's fur itched just to think about it. Not to mention that her clothes (and beloved boots) were definitely not waterproof. Unlike Bonnie, she couldn't survive underwater! So she took a sailboat, but at Bonnie's insistence had borrowed one of her selpies to help tow the boat, just in case the winds did not favor her. Aris was a deft sailor, if not the best; her weather eye was trained for land patterns, not