Nuawahn needed people. It was not what he sought, specifically, in the jungle, but it was a need nonetheless, as important to his well-being as food and drink. He knew he wandered in a solitude deeper than any other – he had no memories of friends to keep him company and he did not know when he had last had contact with another person. He felt, though, that it had been too long. Loneliness gnawed at his insides and so, when he found the settlement of Ast before him, he was delighted. That he was not Shifter or kin to them did not matter: people had always been people. He saw no reason to be bothered, and no reason that he should bother them with his presence. He followed the sound of music into the settlement and, finding no one on the ground, followed it up into the trees. He climbed the rope ladders with nimble and sure hands, balancing among the branches and vines.

He could hear the music better as he entered the upper branches – music and cheers and laughter. As he exited into the open air of the canopy, he realized that he had entered into a festival. Lights bobbed around him in the darkness, carried by carousing people beneath the star-studded vault of the sky. Nuawahn stared at the stars in surprised delight – he hadn't even realized it was nighttime.

“Hello!” called a voice, and Nuawahn turned to see a smiling shifter holding many lanterns. They were colored lights, each one a different color. There were white lights and red lights, blue lights and green lights, and even lights that matched the gold of Nuawahn's hair. “Welcome, traveler.” they said, offering a lantern to Nuawahn, “Come and join our festival!” Nuawahn accepted the lantern gratefully, noticing the lanterns strung into the trees themselves as if the stars had come to the festival too.

“Thank you!” he said, summoning his own illusory lights to the pleased nod of the Shifter and joining the merry throng. He danced through the crowd, taking in the sighs and sounds and smells of the festival. Here, the Fog didn't matter. Memory was, after all, meaningless when the present was so full of joy and energy. Everything, from the incense to the lights to the candy was a rich treat for Nuawahn's senses and, though he doubted that what he sought was here, he did not need to care about that for a while... not for a while indeed. The canopy was bridge-decked and threaded with lights that led to vendors selling things out of stalls – things of all sorts, from food to trinkets to replacement lights. Nuawahn gravitated to a specific stall, where a Alkidike-Shifter hybrid wrapped sweet, thickened, and slightly glowing molten sugar around sticks and sold them to passerby. The smell of it attracted him, as well as a flock of hungry nondwa, who gathered longingly nearby, staring at the treat with their luminous eyes. She grinned at his approach, her antennae twitching at his steps.

“Want one?” she asked, waving one of the treats at him invitingly, “You won't find anything like it anywhere else, I promise you. Not even that roadside confectioner has anything so good!”

“Whats a confectioner?” Nuawahn asked cheerfully, fiddling with his bag and getting out his purse of coins.

The vendor laughed. “Never mind that!” she said, gesturing to the treats, “You should buy one! I promise they're amazing! I call them 'pops' – you pop them in your mouth!” Nuawahn believed her. He bought two and proceeded to put one in his mouth, sucking at it thoughtfully. “See?” she said, grinning, “Just like that.”

Nuawahn thanked her for the treat. It tasted like spicy honey and made his mouth and nose tingle with delight. He offered the other one to a nondwa, coaxing them over gently. He had bought a pink 'pop' and a purple 'pop'. Pink was his favorite color. Purple was just nice. He still remembered his favorite color, at least. Purple, though, was apparently not the nondwa's favorite color. Eventually, he gave up on playing with them and left them a bowl of sugar water. He put the purple pop in his mouth and delighted in the difference in taste. He wandered off, leaving the nondwa to their business as he was lured away by nearby bright swirls of light, sound, and motion.

There, on a platform built into the trees, danced tens – maybe about forty – shifters and hybrids. The lights and the joy of their dancing made them seem ethereal, like tree spirits. Their movements were enticing, and Nuawahn watched them as he finished his 'pops', licking away the last of the sweetness from the stick before throwing them away. Nearly the moment that he did, he found himself dragged into the dancing throng by soft hands and quickly mixed into the movement. Pleasantly surprised, he looked at his dance partner. It was an Ice tribesman, odd in this jungle setting, who was just about Nuawahn's age or, perhaps, a little older.

“Good to see...” the man said, twirling Nuawahn around him. His festival light was a pale white, reflecting off of perfect, ivory-white teeth, “That I'm not the only Sautian here!” Nuawahn's own light was a deep, mysterious indigo, a glow seemingly too dark to really glow, but defying reason and glittering in the darkness none the less. It absorbed into the dark leaves and branches around them and shone against the Ice man's dark skin, making it seem uncannily appealing. “I miss home.” continued the man as he danced, “Maybe, after we dance, you can tell me any news from that mountainous land?”

“I don't know any news!” Nuawahn giggled as their movements brought him very close to the other man, enough to feel his warmth, a softer warmth than Jahuar's oppressive, miasmic heat. “But...” Nuawahn stroked the man's face playfully, “We can talk later, anyway!” he danced away, wiggling his festival light at the man. “If you want!”

The man grinned. He did want.

They danced until their faces were flushed and their legs were jelly, and ate and drank the festival's refreshments until they could do so no more. Finally, they found a safe and ill-frequented part of the canopy and found pleasure in each other's arms. Naked, they relaxed together as the festival faded away in the soft light of dawn.

“So,” the Ice tribesman said, “What did you think of the Shifter's festival?”

Nuawahn nuzzled him happily. “It was fun!” he chirped, caressing the man's side.

“No, I meant what did you think of it? The reasoning behind it? This 'Moon Goddess' of theirs?”

Nuawahn kissed him lightly. “I didn't know there was a reason.” he said, “Was there a reason?”

“Yes.” the man said, amused and, perhaps, a little smug, “It was their new year. Or something. The first full moon: absurd, if you ask me.”

“Why?” Nuawahn looked at him with puzzled minty-blue eyes, “it makes sense to me.”

“What? You believe in their goddess?” the man snorted, patting Nuawahn's head as if he were a child. Nuawahn giggled and snuggled closer. “If there were a moon goddess, they'd be eaten by chi every month at the new moon. So, they'd have to die and come back, month after month. Even for a god, that's ridiculous.”

“Mmm... It makes sense to me, though.” said Nuawahn thoughtfully.

The man grumbled unhappily. “You're simple as a spitorog, then.” he said, turning away, “I'm going to go to sleep.”

Nuawahn's hands retreated in puzzled disappointment. “Oh. All right.” he said softly. He had been hoping to have a little more fun that evening but he laid back on the soft leaves and watched the world lighten around him. And, as he watched the dawn dilute the lanterns in the branches, it all made sense to him.