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Vulpin spent little time entertaining the lumberjack, immediately purchasing the medikit over the other junk he was selling. There was really no other word for it. It was junk. As much as he loved a good PB&J, and as useful a shovel would be, they both had, well, a bite taken out of them. The medikit seemed infinitely more useful. Spending the last of his beetles, he took the item and moved off, looking up to the mountains.

He could enjoy a good hike, he thought to himself. He hadn't been to Busthind since his trips to the Punishment Pits, so he was satisfied with the small mountains New Hemisect provided him.

Something subtle caught his attention in the corner of his vision. A troll, heading the opposite direction. The distance between them was increasing, but Vulpin trained in on her movements. It was unmistakeable. Etsali. Was she wearing a disguise too? But no mask. Strange. No, it wasn't strange. It was just stupid. But he wasn't going to stop her. Cupping his hands around his mouth, Vulpin let out a yip for her attention. He waved softly at her for a moment, content to let each other keep their separate ways for the hunt. After all, there'd be less mushrooms to pick if they had to split between the two of them.

With that he turned on his heels and started up the mountain, ready to continue his adventure.

Cesfer had been so excited when his lusus had told him he could go to a festival! A real festival! Full of people and presents and shiny, colorful things! Cesfer had never been to one before – the closest he'd come had been a highblood party and he'd hated it. This was a festival for lowbloods – there would be lowbloods there. That would make things better, he felt... so much better.

Cesfer made a special trip out to the store with his lusus and, braving his nervousness about the salestrolls, managed to buy new clothes, a brand new mask, and even a pair gloves! However, in his excitement, he forgot about one very important thing: the people. In Cesfer's defense, he was a bitty little wiggler, and the sheer crowd of a Jubilee was beyond his little wiggler understanding. The highblood party he'd been too had been a wiggler-level event, 30 trolls at most.

He had never experienced hundreds of trolls in one place before. It was too much: the people, the energy of the festivities, the variety of stuff to do... it overwhelmed him completely. Cesfer didn't know what to do. So he did what he always did when things were too much – he hid, and he watched. Though he longed to go up to many trolls, he ended up just watching them all from the shadows for nearly the whole festival. His lusus didn't mind at all. He liked Cesfer to stay out of the way as he had fun on his own. Of course, the clawed beaver could not make mooncakes, or play any of the games, but he could interact with other lusii, and there were plenty of places for him to do so away from the trolls.

By the end of the festival night, Cesfer was tired. There had been so many things to watch, so many people to silently cheer (and boo) for. The conflict between wanting to go to the people and wanting to stay hidden had drained him, and Cesfer was ready to go home long. With stealthy, nervous attempt to weave through the crowd to tug at his lusus' tail and some persuasive whining, Cesfer convinced his lusus to leave... But Cesfer's efforts were not unseen.

“Hello there, darlin!” called a voice. Cesfer turned to see an adult troll waving at him. He moved behind his lusus, noting the troll's blood color – yellow. Yellow was good.

“Hi...” he said shyly.

“Wanna play a game, darlin? It's real simple like, and you could get yourself a box of fruit as a prize!” the troll waved a small crate of brightly colored fruits, teasing his nose with sweet smells.

“Umm...” She was yellow. She wasn't going to backstab him or hurt him or trick him. She was safe. “Okay!” he said, holding his lusus' chubby body tightly as he approached, “Whats the game?”

She handed him an inflatable bouncing object – a ball. “See this thing? You throw it through that yonder hoop. If you can do it, you get a prize. First throw is free as a chirpbeast, darlin.” she winked, “Go ahead!”

Cesfer beamed at her, forgetting (as he often did) that he was hidden by a mask, and threw the ball. It bounced off the board behind the hoop.

“Ohhh, too bad darlin, 10 beetles for another go?” he paid. He tried again.

And paid. And tried again.

And paid again. And tried again... and, finally, the ball went through the hoop. “Good job, darlin!” the troll handed him the berries. They smelled so tasty, so ripe! “You wanna go again?”

Cesfer nodded.

By the time he, exhausted, finally broke away from the festival he had spent quite a few beetles and had several crates of tasty sweet figs and berries of bright juicy colors. In the end, despite the cacophony of amazing things, the ball game was the only part of the festival he remembered.