"I have a thought," Amy said aloud as the warm glow of the flames danced over her face. The firepit was active, currently boiling a serving of melted snow for safe consumption.

"What of it?" Mark was leaning against Amy, and her against him, as the wind howled like an untamed canine. Between them, Jack was curled up on the warrior's thigh, leaning against his muscle-padded waist as he dozed peacefully under a thick sheet of soft animal fur. The bloody evidence of his latest feast, the blueish purple juice of the alien fruit that was getting to be more and more familiar, still stained his mouth.

"What if we tried something other than berries?" Amy suggested, "His appetite has been growing increasingly; I don't think I've ever seen such a small creature eat so much." Mark let a soft chuckle rumble in his chest as he glanced down at the little human.

"Perhaps so." He rubbed Jack's back, earning a soft sleepy hum as the Irishman shifted comfortably in his sleep.

"Well, we'll have to find something else: He can't eat frozen crépes forever, they'll go bad soon," Amy reasoned. "Besides, he should have something more than just one thing over and over again so he'll regain more energy."

"Cha. And more energy means swifter healing."

"Exactly." They sat in silence for a few minutes, with only the bubbling of purifying water and the pop and crackle of fire to fill the space in the hut. Outside, however, was busy: the moon was full, and so tonight was to be a time of song and dance. They were both already dressed for the occasion: Amy's hair was pushed back over her ears by a thin crown of woven saplings, and adorned with brown and white feathers, as well as bracelets and swirls of violet dye on her light skin, and a more dress-like outfit; Mark had on less metal and no pectoral sleeve to expose the tattoos, but still wore the metallic gauntlets, and his face was stained with redder dye marks, including two lines that ran over his right eye like a bleeding eyebrow.

Eventually, Amy moved her head and gestured for Mark to remove the bowl from the fire. He carefully leaned over their patient and pulled the bowl out, wincing a little at the surprisingly high temperature before carefully setting it down on the surrounding circle of snow.

"Hopefully he'll still have a good sleep," Mark said as he rubbed his hands together, "Dreamwalking will be hard with the Lünâewa celebrations going on." As if to prove his point, someone outside busted a testing drum solo accompanied by a cluster of laughs and yips.

"He's resting quite well at the moment," Amy pointed out with a small laugh. "Leave him to regain his strength. The others will come here soon looking for us." Mark nodded and tilted his leg, letting Jack slide off and right into his hands. Jack let out a few drowsy noises and snuggled his covers as the warrior settled him back inside his nest. He gave the small human a little ruffle of the hair with one finger, murmuring well wishes for a good rest, before turning and following Amy out of the winter hut.

Not far off was the center of the tribe's camps, which was comprised of a clearing and a great mountain of firewood. Gathered around already were the masters of the drums, the horns, the clapsticks, the pan flute, and rhythm and dancing and vocalizing. Mark could already feel a familiar stir of excitement as he spied a group of youths chanting at Ethan.

"Backflip! Backflip! Backflip!" They begged. Ethan laughed as he tried to promise them he would do it soon, but they kept pleading until he finally exclaimed, "Alright alright, I'll do it!" They immediately scooted back as he crouched, thought it out in a few seconds, and then he sprang. The children gasped in awe as he gracefully flipped over, feet arching to touch the stars and kick through the night like water, and then he was back on his feet with hardly a stumble. They squealed with delight and demanded another go. Mark, smiling, decided to step in and save the blue-haired boy from exhausting himself.

"Líten chülbas, how about you all go and see the instruments everyone has out?" He suggested, crouching down to their height with a friendly smile, "I bet if you ask nicely, they'll even let you try them out!" They eagerly chorused their cooperation and scurried off to gander at the ceremonious tools. Mark got back up as Ethan grinned at him.

"Hah, thanks," he greeted, slightly out of breath. "I feel like I haven't done that in a while."

"You're right," Mark smirked, "You're getting out of shape."

"Ha! As if!" Mark glanced over his shoulder to spy Amy with her hand to a boy's forehead. He couldn't hear what she was saying, but the boy sniffled and sneezed at the ground, giving him plenty of indication. Even when she's suppose to be taking time off, she still goes out of her way to help others. His heart hummed warmly with love.

"Is Tyler ready yet?" He asked.

"Not yet." Ethan dabbed at the blue dye on his cheeks, making sure it was dry. "It's not like he participates in anything except overseeing anyway. And the stories. Well, I mean-" An uprise in voices interrupted the aide-de-camp, and they both turned to see that Tyler had finally come out of his hut. Silvery charms jangled against his arms as he came over, nodding to the many whom greeted him. He wore a silvery iridescent headdress of feathers that flowed behind him like a ghostly cloak, and replacing his metal guards were green strips of cloth that wrapped around his forearms and feet, up to his shins. They all tilted their heads respectfully, even Mark and Ethan as he walked up to them.

"Come on, I told you you two don't have to do that," Tyler reminded.

"Serönoba," Mark answered with a smug grin. Tyler huffed and actually smiled before looking to Ethan.

"Everything is ready?" Ethan nodded.

"Cha. Everyone's out here, and the hunters brought back a lot of food." Mark perked at the mention of food.

"Meats?" He asked.

"And nuts and the last of all our berries," Ethan reminded him. Mark gave a nod.

"Good. Plenty of food for everyone." Ethan unhooked a hollow horn from his waistbelt and offered it to Tyler.

"Whenever you're ready, chief!" Tyler took it with a grateful nod and brough it to his lips. When he blew, it emittited a great bellow that stopped everyone from what they were doing. Within a few seconds, he had everyone's attention, and the chieftain gave his friend his horn back before putting his hand up toward the moon.

"Tonight we honor the Eye of Lünâewa, which shines brightly upon us as it does open and close in the night. Ere we feast, we must play our offerings to her so that she may find rest in her place with the stars, before Jeóbien comes to disturb her sleep once more with his bright light."

"What a nice brother for waking his sister!" A young teen guffawed in the back. He was quickly wacked on the shoulder by his mother as chuckles rumbled across the gathered crowd. Tyler grinned.

"We shall begin the dancing, and then feast with stories of our ancestors under her gaze. May she smile down upon you and grant us all the inner strength and wisdom we need. Lünâewa clövandä!"

"Lünâewa clövandä!" They all cheered. And then the drums began to beat. The people whooped and broke away to gather around the unlit bonfire, already swaying to the beat that vibrated in the air.

"May I?" Mark asked Tyler with a knowing smile.

"Be my guest." The warrior held his hand up and closed his eyes. He called forth that familiar heat that churned within his core, coursing it from all of his veins and focusing it into his hand. He felt the heat increase, and then almost a tickling sensation bathed his fingers as, sure enough, a growing flame sprouted to life on them. He wiggled his fingers with a smile, recognizing the feeling, and then he opened his eyes and hurled the fire. The flames landed on the wood like little glowing worms, wriggling innocently before warming up to the branches and bracken and spreading. The tribe cheered and warbled loudly as the beautiful fire engulfed the pile, stretching silhouettes like long-legged shadow demons flickering behind the orange glow. Other instruments joined in, and many began to dance. Some had partners to churn circles of snow with; some clapped or simply offered their voice to contribute to the song, and some simply watched as even they felt the peace sooth their hearts.

Mark watched, smiling and laughing as Ethan was swept up in the choreographed circle by his own mate; his lips flickered in rhythm with the beat, mouthing the drumming of the pelted sticks and beating hands, as did his foot, but he did not get up. Maracas lightly shook as the drums went on to take over the music; feet stamped in unison with the bass; elbows and hands jutted out against the bright orange glow, declaring the freedom that they possessed and proclaiming their love to the white eye hovering high above. The pitch swung from low to high, and the people rose and fell with it, swaying up and then downward. They circled each other and the fire, kicking the ground with a high knee and waving their arms. And when the music calmed, they relaxed, putting forearm to forearm and rounding about their patterns in the snow, still bringing a foot up and down with the occasional low slam of the drum to cast cold white powder up into the air like the winking stars above.

And then Amy plopped down beside Mark. He regarded her with surprise. "You aren't participating?" He asked over the music.

"Are you?" She rebounded casually. Mark smiled and dipped his head submissively.

"Fair point." He watched the dancing shadows for a little bit. And then he asked, "So what will you plan on letting him try next?"

"Probably nuts," she answered, "There isn't much else that's available aside from meat, and he's herbivorous, so..." She shrugged. "We'll just have to see during the feast." Mark nodded. A final drum solo, and then the instruments stopped proudly. The dancers grinned and yipped as the onlookers applauded and cheered them on. Mark tilted his head as he spotted which musicians were getting ready next: A different song began to play, lighter and happier. The drums were lighter pitched and more content, and then the pipes and horns began to play. The warrior then caught a subtle motion of Amy's head bobbing to the beat as the dancers began to tap and swirl, and he grinned.

"Come on." He stood and held out his hand. "We should do at least one dance." She looked up at him for a second with innocent surprise, and then she smiled back and put her petite hand in his large calloused one.

"I suppose you have been dragging me into this for the past... how many moons have we been together?" Mark laughed and guided her to the circle.

"The first was when the flowers finally bloomed." They slipped into the circle. Room was easily made for them, and they went into the same position as the rest of their merry company, tapping and swaying. "You were wearing a flower crown and flower bracelets on your upper arms," Mark recalled as they circled each other, hand to hand. "You were beautiful from the moment my eyes touched you." Amy blushed.

"You tripped and fell in the mud." Mark laughed.

"Because I fell for you!" She giggled as they rounded and bobbed along to the chipper tune. They were side by side, elbow to elbow as they spun and kicked in unison. He circled her as her arms flowed out to show him the way; their hands raised together in a wave of praise. As the music excelled in vigor, he took her by the hand for a brief moment before she spun and reconnected. They locked arms down to the elbow, and then her hand came up to his nape as his slid down to her waist, circling. He swayed, and she followed, her hand coming all the way down to his bicep before she came back up. No mistakes interrupted their spinning tango as they kept their eyes on each other, lost in their own little windows but never faltering in the environment around them. Every and any little signal one gave the other picked up and acted upon, becoming one with the rhythm. They were one with each other.

They were one.