Extra: A Small Adventurer

This is a story of when Angeline was only eight years old.

In fields that had become a patchwork of black dirt and white snow walked some donkeys. Behind them, farmers hoisted up plows and sang cheerful work songs, occasionally interjecting with a sharp reprimand for the beasts. The donkeys plodded on with a leisurely gait as though to match the tempo of the farmers’ songs, going one way and then the other repeatedly as the mottled ground gradually was plowed a uniform black.

The snowmelt was when the outside work began. Everyone’s bodies felt stiff from the winter, but there was no time to use that excuse to slack off. They needed to prepare their fields quickly to bury their seed potatoes, sow the spring wheat, and threshed the fall wheat sprouting from the snow.

The sheep and goats would set upon the fresh young grass with gusto, growing entranced with all the fresh vegetation they couldn’t eat in the winter. At times they would also wander into the fields and eat the wheat sprouts, eliciting shouts from the farmers.

Belgrieve put up a hard fight with a patch of viscous soil as he readied a field—not one of the village’s commons, but a field of his own. Each time he hammered his hoe into the ground, dark soil would coil and snag the tip.

Donkeys and horses were used to plow the vast communal fields, but the smaller ones for each house were maintained one swing at a time. The motion was like a sword lowered from a high stance, and he considered this job a part of his training. However, the endpoint of each slash would always be the ground, and the impact would reverberate through his body. After keeping at it for so long, he began to feel it in his back and hips.

Belgrieve worked slowly, carrying on a long negotiation with his aching muscles all the way. He would occasionally put his hand to his hip and bend his torso this way and that. With the ground so viscous, each individual move took a bit of careful planning.

It was almost time for the spring festival. The fall wheat had mostly been threshed by now, and roughly eighty percent of the fields for the spring wheat and potatoes had been weeded and plowed.

Angeline ran up to him with light feet. She had a small bag hanging from her shoulder and a dagger at her hip.

“I’m going, dad.”

“Hm? Oh, take care.”

She crossed the yard and kept running from there. She’s going to play, right? Belgrieve thought, seeing her off with a glance. He began swinging his hoe once more.

○

The water from the snowmelt flowed all around in brooks and creeks, chilling to the touch. While the sun’s rays beaming down clearly belonged to spring, the wind against her skin still retained the winter’s cold, and each breath was still white.

Angeline walked through the plains outside the village. The children she usually played with weren’t anywhere to be seen, and she toddled around alone. At times, the damp ground beneath her would ooze water as she stepped. There were some places where the water was deeper, and once her foot hit such a patch, she grimaced.

“Grr... I’m already soggy today.”

After that, she finally began proceeding with caution. She would avoid what looked like a muddy spot, and if she saw a large rock, she would step on it instead of the ground. She knew this place well; she walked through it with Belgrieve every morning, and she would often come to play with her friends. The brooks that formed only at this time of year made it even more fun to romp around, and she had been here with friends a number of times during the melt. Her unsteady footing during those times made it feel like she was on an adventure.

For a while, she walked with her eyes on the ground. Once she raised her head, she caught sight of a solitary goat on the crags—perhaps it had just come from grazing. Its jaw churned as it chewed, and its sideways slit eyes focused on Angeline. Angeline pursed her lips, staring straight back at it.

“You didn’t see me... It’s a secret.” She raised a finger to her lips and shushed it, before pressing onward even faster.

“Meh,” the goat replied.

Only a little further down, the isolated trees suddenly grew into a denser forest. Some had lost all their leaves, but there were plenty of evergreens as well, and the snow still remained where the branches and foliage shielded it from the sun’s rays. Still, it gradually melted away in the daytime heat, and the trickles from the branches made it seem as though it was raining in the forest.

Even when it’s so bright outside, Angeline thought, giggling to herself. She would still find herself a little startled each time a large droplet collided with her shoulders or head.

This was her first time entering the forest alone. She would always venture out with Belgrieve to gather herbs, fruit, and mushrooms. Much like the other children, Angeline loved exploring the forest. The greenery grew thicker the further into its depths she went; here, large trees would sometimes collapse and leave behind mossy logs, while new, smaller trees would sprout in their place. Young as she was, the scene played on her heartstrings. She also loved the meals they would share as they sat on those fallen trees, and the marvelous fairy tales Belgrieve would tell there—stories of the spirits and the forest’s other inhabitants. These tales were intriguing and even terrifying at times.

Angeline came to a stop and looked around. A new tree was growing from a dead, decaying trunk—here, life and death existed in harmony. If she stood silently, she could feel the line separating her from the forest grow ambiguous. It was like she could feel strange stares from here and there. The forest she always entered with Belgrieve seemed completely different once she was on her own.

And so, her heart soared higher and higher the further in she went. While her thirst for adventure raised her spirits, she also felt somewhat scared and helpless. She did not think of herself as weak—she trained with the blade every day, and was confident that the dagger at her hip could take care of anything that came her way.

The darkness, however, evoked a completely different sort of fear. Terror raced through her mind: the fear of being unable to leave, of wandering the forest forever... Angeline shook her head to rid herself of all the bad thoughts.

“I’m not scared... I can get glowgrass all on my own...” she convinced herself, walking off once again with even larger strides than before.

○

There had been a small dinner party at Kerry’s house the other day, and Belgrieve and Angeline had been invited. A few affable farmers had gotten together to restore their spirits just before the year’s work began. The adults carried on a lighthearted chat as they sipped the cider that had been served with the pretense of testing the batch.

Kerry poured himself a cup and laughed. “Finally spring, eh! Comes sooner every year!”

“My thoughts exactly... It’s gonna get busy,” Belgrieve muttered, and the gathered farmers nodded.

“Nearly festival time already... Hey, the wheat isn’t sprouting right in a few spots.”

“Where? What spots?”

“Along the western stream. Maybe we didn’t spread enough seed.”

“That ain’t good. Want me to add a bit more?”

“Nah, we’ll keep the threshing in moderation, and add a bit more fertilizer. We’ll manage somehow or another once the stalks thicken up.”

“That so? I got more than enough manure on hand. Want some, just say the word.”

“You’re a real lifesaver there.”

“Hey, Bell? You have enough taters at your place?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Our fields aren’t that large, anyways.”

“I see... Thing is, we stored our taters a little too well this year, and we’ve got more’n we know what to do with.”

The farmer talking to Belgrieve scratched his head, and another one laughed.

“Now’s as good a time as any—how about you expand that field?”

“Maybe you’re right... Kerry, can you lend me your donkey sometime?”

“Sure, go right ahead—after I’m done with my field, though.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ll hold you to it.”

With Angeline sitting on his lap, Belgrieve sipped his cider, mulling over tomorrow’s work. Angeline, meanwhile, was hugging Kerry’s cat, enraptured by its fluff.

The fire in the hearth burned bright and red, adding modest warm hues to the piercing cold of the early spring evening. Kerry’s house was quite large, accommodating his wealth and large family. His dining room fit more than ten—including the children—and still had space to spare. Kerry’s wife was roasting the wildfowl Belgrieve had hunted earlier in the day. Smacking their lips at the aromatic meat, they mustered the willpower to get to work.

Talks would turn to work whenever farmers gathered, but they all looked forward to the spring festival that awaited them beyond it. It was held every year on the very first day of spring on the official calendar. Around these parts, the snow began melting quite a bit before that, and field work was already well underway. Their spring began before the calendar said it did, and the villagers did all they could from the end of winter to make sure their duties did not pile up. By the time they reached a good stopping point, the festivities would be upon them.

The feasts of the spring festival mainly centered around their leftover winter stockpiles, so it fell short of the fall festival. Even so, it was a feast after the first bit of hard work since the beginning of winter. The harder they exerted themselves, the more they could relish in what was to come, and so, they did not hesitate to shed sweat. They drank in moderation at these minor get-togethers, but would often wind up dead drunk by the end of the spring festival.

“Isn’t this year’s cider a bit sour?”

“Nah, probably just the barrel.”

“I’m looking forward to the tasting competition. Who do you think will win this year?”

“We’ll have to wait and see.”

“Are you gonna harvest glowgrass this year, Bell?”

“Yeah.”

“Again? I’m surprised you haven’t grown tired of it yet. The paper lanterns are enough.”

“Ha ha, just let me be stubborn, why don’t you? My old ma and pa used to like it...” Belgrieve smiled and downed his cider.

Around the start of spring, glowgrass would bloom with sturdy, round, lamp-like flowers. These flowers were around the size of burrs, and when night came around, their pollen would let off a faint blue phosphorescence to attract insects. If distilled liquor was splashed over the stamen, they would glow vermillion instead.

The spring festival was also a ceremony to lay spirits to rest. According to Turnera’s local religious customs, the fall festival was when offerings were made to Almighty Vienna and the spirits to welcome the ghosts of one’s ancestors. These ghosts would stay in the house through the winter, watching over their descendants and ensuring they survived the cold. Eventually, once spring arrived, they were to be sent back to the land of the dead.

To this end, the day would be spent in revelry with friends and ancestors, and once the sun set, vermillion glowgrass would be sent adrift down the snowmelt streams to see the spirits on their way. Their farewell feast would continue late into the night.

However, it had been quite a long time since glowgrass had been used by anybody else. Nowadays, paper would be stretched over a wood-carved structure, and a candle would be inserted inside. The village elders said this was because it had never been this easy to obtain paper.

There had once been great fields of wild glowgrass, but they had been turned to wheat fields in their grandparents’ generation. After all, glowgrass only grew in fertile ground with good sunlight, and those places were also perfect for fields. Development of the land proceeded bit by bit until now, when only a few fickle stalks still grew around the village.

Though paper lanterns were now the norm, ever since Belgrieve returned to Turnera, he would venture out to harvest glowgrass at the start of every spring. There were still many houses that used glowgrass when he was still a child, and his parents were very fond of their vermillion lights.

Belgrieve’s memories of his parents were faint. His father died when he was seven, his mother when he was eleven. He was pretty sure he was loved, but he couldn’t remember his father’s face, and lately, he was on the verge of forgetting his mother as well. However, while the images faded, the emotions he felt as they all watched the glowgrass float down the river were still carved into his heart.

This was the least he could offer to his parents who had passed on before he could repay them, and so he would dutifully harvest glowgrass every year. Each time he watched the lights, he would feel those memories renew themselves.

The dinner was over before nightfall, and Belgrieve returned with Angeline on his back. Angeline was a little drowsy by then, but the cool air kept her up, and she fidgeted on his back.

“Dad,” she said.

“Hmm? What’s up?”

“Are you going to search for glowgrass again...?”

“Yeah, every year. I know we’re busy, but your grandma and grandpa really loved it.”

“Yeah...but...the field...”

“Ha ha, not much we can do about that. It happens every year, and I’m used to it.”

“I see...”

Angeline buried her face in his back and closed her eyes.

○

I want to help dad out in any way I can, thought Angeline.

Belgrieve was spending each day earnestly working his fields. He prepped the soil and ventured into the mountains whenever he had free time. Not only that, he also helped out with other people’s fields, and did all the cooking, cleaning, and laundry at home. Angeline assisted, of course, but she wasn’t nearly as skilled. With her small body, there was a limit to what she could do for the fields.

Foraging in the mountains was where she showed the most promise. She was confident in her eyes—she could spot herbs, fruit, and mushrooms even before Belgrieve could, and she was good at climbing trees, which Belgrieve struggled with due to his peg leg. In the fall, she would climb up to pluck grapes and akebia.

She decided she would gather glowgrass in his stead. Spring was busy enough as it was, and it took much time just to venture into the forest’s depths and back again. She wanted to lessen the burden on Belgrieve, even if only by a little.

Angeline had gone glowgrass picking with him before. Back then, Belgrieve had taken her to a clearing on the opposite side of the western mountain. It was at the foot of the mountain, so she wouldn’t have to climb, but it was still a long journey through the forest to get there. At the onset of spring, the forest was dark with poor visibility, and the ground was oftentimes wet and spongy.

She remembered how the scenery suddenly opened up to countless round petals swaying over a gentle slope—a beautiful view.

“Will dad praise me? Hee hee...” She giggled, picturing Belgrieve patting her head as she returned with her arms full of glowgrass. She had snuck out secretly to surprise him, and surely Belgrieve would be delighted to see how much she had grown.

Angeline leaned her back against a large rock to rest. It was in the sunlight, and pleasantly warm. It was right around the time the sun began tilting to the west. She felt hungry. From her bag, she produced a hard loaf of bread with goat cheese and bit into it.

She took a sweeping look around herself. She was deep in the forest now, and she had made it here alone. Excluding Belgrieve, even the village adults couldn’t make it this far. The thought did frighten Angeline, but it made her proud as well. Perhaps this was the first step for her to become the adventurer she always wanted to be.

“Heh heh... I’m an adventurer!”

She drew her dagger, playfully swinging it around as if a fiend had appeared right before her. Gradually, she grew more and more heated, and then it wasn’t just her blade—her feet were moving to match this nonexistent foe too, and she was putting on a show by herself. The story played out in her head.

A powerful fiend popped out. Dad is very strong, but the fiend got him by surprise and injured him. And then, I gallantly jump out! She pretended to cover for him, glaring straight ahead.

“Dad...you’re safe now! Come, fiend! You’re going to have to go through me!”

The fiend obviously has to be a dragon or demon or something strong like that. I mean, it’s good enough to injure dad after all. But I’m not going to lose. I learned the sword from dad, and I’m not going to lose to anyone but dad. No matter what.

She grew more and more excited, mixing in shouts and lines she knew sounded cool in the moment.

“En garde! Hyah! Hmm, not bad... Let me guess, you are...the Dragon of Legend!”

Her battle with the imaginary dragon reached its climax, and by the time she finally used her finishing move to take its head, Angeline was completely worn out. She had jumped around so much in her trance that she had worked up a sweat.

Once again, she sat against the rock and let out a deep breath.

“What a battle...” she lamented, her delusions evidently going on.

She had eaten lunch, moved a lot, and was now basking in the warmth of the sun. The sandman took her by complete surprise, and she was snoring before she had any say in the matter.

○

“Kerryyyyyyy...”

“Whoa?!”

Just as Kerry was returning home from his fields, he was shocked to come across Belgrieve, who looked as if judgment day was upon him. The sun had already sunk and it was almost pitch black outside. He couldn’t even tell who it was until he was closer, and it was that exact time of day where scary monsters were prone to come after the bad boys and girls. Kerry inadvertently cried out.

“B-Bell! Don’t scare me, good grief...”

“Ange...Ange didn’t come home... It’s already so dark out...”

“Huh? Ange? Isn’t she out playing with the other kids, then?”

“All the other kids are home safe... Wh-Wh-What do I do, Kerry...? Don’t tell me she was kidnapped...or maybe... Oh, Ange...”

Whatever he was imagining, it made Belgrieve cover his face and cry out in agony. Kerry sighed and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Oi, Bell, this ain’t like you at all. First, settle down.”

“H-H-How am I supposed to settle down?! This has never happened before!”

Kerry almost cracked a smile seeing Belgrieve—who was usually so calm and collected—in a frenzy, but this was no time to laugh. He grabbed Belgrieve’s shoulder rather roughly and shook it.

“Stupid! What good does it do for you to lose your mind?! Stay like that, and you’re even less likely to find her!”

“Erk... Y-You’re right... Sorry...”

“In any case, let’s go around asking if anyone saw Ange. I’ll call out to anyone who’s free to search.”

“Yeah... Sorry...”

Having somewhat regained his calm, Belgrieve went around asking the other villagers. Most didn’t know anything, and none of the kids had played with Angeline that day. However, a herdboy who had sent his goats out to graze claimed he saw her.

“She was on her own. Went off towards the forest, if I recall.”

Belgrieve turned pale. The forest? Alone? For what?

“Don’t tell me... The glowgrass?”

He hadn’t the time to think. Belgrieve rushed home, grabbed his sword and a lantern, and raced out.

On the way, he passed a curious villager who called out, “Bell? What’s wrong?”

“I’m gonna find Ange!”

The forest was dark enough during the day, and even darker at night. He couldn’t see his own feet, and this made him far slower with his peg leg. One slight misstep would be enough to send him tumbling, as it would be impossible to brace his toes. If he stepped on rotting wood, the tip of his prosthesis would sink in; if he stepped on damp rocks, he could slip. When it was bright out, he would unconsciously avoid all of these hazards the moment his eyes registered them, but it was harder to discern them by lamplight. Nevertheless, his heart would not allow him to slow down.

Belgrieve anxiously shouted out Angeline’s name as he sped onward, his voice futilely reverberating between the trees.

○

A sudden cold breeze swept over her. Shivering, Angeline leaped to her feet.

“Hmm...? Where was I again...”

It had grown so very dark while she wasn’t looking; evidently, night had fallen during her little nap. Angeline tilted her head, momentarily wondering why she was outside, but quickly recalled she had come to the forest. And then, she panicked.

“Wh-What do I do...”

She had intended to be out before it grew dark. Then, she would tell Belgrieve of her adventure and eat dinner with him. Yet night had fallen—it was pitch black here and there, and she could only vaguely make out the outlines of the trees from the contrasting shadows. The stars in the sky above seemed her only salvation.

“West is...thataway,” she said, taking her bearing from the constellations—a skill she had learned from Belgrieve. This was her first time entering the forest at night, but she had heard stories. Her eyes couldn’t be relied on, so she was apparently supposed to make good use of her nose and ears. Also, she knew she had to stay put unless it was absolutely unavoidable.

“But...”

It was too terrifying to stick around here. Even the great rock she had been entrusting her body to had grown cold, as though it was belittling her. She felt as if some formless something was watching her from beyond the darkness; she would have much preferred it to be something her blade could cut. Whatever happened, she very much wanted to avoid being dragged into the darkness to wander forever.

For now, let’s head towards the glowgrass, she thought. It wasn’t as if she had a clear reason. Simply put, in the frenzied mind of a child, the simplest solution seemed to be following her initial objective.

Angeline shuffled onward, driven by fear and desolation. She could be distracted from those emotions ever so slightly so long as she kept moving. She held her hands out in front of her as she walked, but as her eyes gradually grew accustomed to the dark, she developed a hazy grasp of the forest at night. She had previously been desperate not to topple over, but her pace was gradually growing smoother. Her heart calmed, and her courage was coming back.

Suddenly, a forest bird cawed and flew from its perch. The sound of its wings and the rustle of leaves resounded through the air. Angeline drew her dagger and readied herself. She was roused once again; her heart raced, and her breaths were detestably loud.

“Urgh...”

She wiped away her slowly building tears with the back of her hand and continued walking. The cold pricked her body, and she let out a pure white breath. She rubbed her hands together for some warmth. Angeline had been driven by coldness and loneliness, but once she came to and looked around, she was finally stricken by despair. She knew what direction she was headed in, but had no idea where she was. Even as she headed vaguely westward, she was still walking blindly.

After continuing on for some time, she hunkered down and hugged her knees. Her tears spilled out over the ground, and her heart was overcome with regret, wondering why she had ever come to pick glowgrass alone.

Is dad worried about me? Is he searching for me now?

She felt pathetic for making Belgrieve worry. She wanted to return home and have him praise her for how much she had grown, but now her own development was the least of her worries.

“I’m so stupid. Angeline, you idiot...”

She slapped her cheeks and felt them grow hot. Her fingertips, by contrast, were terribly cold. She couldn’t possibly go on now, and for a while, she remained there unmoving. She hugged herself, rubbing her shoulders. But now that she had halted, she could feel the chill on her spine, and she felt as though her teeth didn’t properly lock anymore. Each time she tried to set them still, they would rattle together.

I’m done for, she thought. But the shaking was too strong for her to do anything. Her breathing became shallow, and her white breath ceaselessly lingered in the air.

A bead of faint green light rose from the ground, and she lifted her face in shock.

“Wow...” she mused without thinking.

Small granules, like fireflies, silently flickered in the breeze, a multitude floating before her. Angeline reached out her hand and grabbed for one. However, when she opened her hand, the light was gone. It had been neither hot nor cold; nor was it a bug—in the first place, this was not the season for fireflies.

The lights provided a feeble reprieve from the dark of the woods. The trees and rocks stood out in their faint green glow. It was a phantasmic, enchanting sight, before which Angeline forgot her sorrows. Perhaps one of Belgrieve’s forest fairy tales contained lights like these.

She heard a voice in the distance. Snapping to her senses, she took in her surroundings. It was definitely her name in a voice she would never mistake for anyone else.

“Dad! I’m over here!” Angeline cried out. The thicket rustled and parted in response, and it wasn’t long before she saw the yellow light of a lantern and the red hair lit by it.

“Ange!”

“Dad!”

The sense of relief surging forth within her severed all the threads keeping her tense, and she once again burst into tears, running at Belgrieve and leaping into his chest. Belgrieve patted her head uncharacteristically roughly.

“You’re not hurt, are you?! No? Ah, that’s good... You little rascal! You had me worried there!”

“I’m sorry... I’m so sorry... Waaaaah!”

○

For the time being, Angeline had cried herself out, and she now sat on Belgrieve’s lap. It was big and warm, offering much peace of mind.

The lantern’s light showed that Belgrieve was in tatters. His clothes were muddy here and there—signs he had taken more than a few tumbles. There were scratches on his face from the branches he ran into as he ran, and withered leaf scraps and mud stuck to his hair. Angeline felt profoundly apologetic, yet Belgrieve seemed completely unperturbed. Regardless of what happened, he was satisfied that Angeline was all right.

“You did well, making it all the way here alone...”

“Yeah...”

“But there will be no second time, okay? Your father was incredibly worried about you.”

“Yeah... I’m sorry...”

Angeline seemed terribly crestfallen, so Belgrieve smiled and lifted her to her feet.

“All right, let’s get going.”

“Yeah. Are we going home?”

“No—since we’re here anyway, let’s get some glowgrass before we go.”

“B-But you said the forest was dangerous at night...”

“Hey now, if you understand that, then you know you shouldn’t come here alone.”

“Erp...”

Seeing her down in the dumps again, Belgrieve chuckled and placed a hand on her head.

“It’s all right. Dad is here with you.”

Angeline had been a little tense from guilt, yet all those knots unraveled all at once. Dad is with me! To Angeline, there were no words in the world more reassuring than those. Her lone wolf adventure was thrilling and wonderful, but going out with her father was even better. Angeline happily clung to Belgrieve’s arm and gripped his hand.

“Let’s hold hands!”

“Right, so we don’t lose each other... Oh no, you’ve gotten so cold...”

Belgrieve rubbed her back to warm her, walking slowly to match her pace. They only had the light of the small lantern between them, but so long as they didn’t rush, they were in no danger of stumbling.

When she took it all in without fear, the night forest was brimming with a peculiar charm. The darkness where all the scary things lurked suddenly seemed so warm and welcoming. The sounds made by the wind passing over her head and rustling the leaves were beautiful. She was delighted when she spotted an owl clinging to a branch, and gleeful as a field mouse scurried past her feet.

At times, Belgrieve would stop and motion for her to lower her voice. He would urge her to peer into the dark. When she focused her eyes, she could make out animals quietly staring back.

“The night forest is their world,” Belgrieve told her. “They’re the ones watching us. So you have to hone every sense in your body.”

Angeline nodded. That feeling of being watched from all around probably wasn’t her imagination. She suddenly recalled the faint green lights and wondered if those were living beings as well. She asked Belgrieve, who mulled the question over.

“That may have been spirit fire.”

“Spirit fire?”

“I think I’ve told you the story. Do you remember Isolde the Lost?”

“Yeah!”

It was an old fairy tale—a story of a young girl called Isolde who lost her way in the woods, only for a peculiar green light to lead her back to the village. Angeline knew she had heard about it somewhere before.

“There are spirits living in the forests. Sometimes they might do something miraculous on a whim.”

“You mean making us walk round and round in circles like those mischievous fairies?”

“Ha ha, sometimes. Those are a type of spirit too. But spirits like children. I’m sure they came to you because you were sad and alone, Ange.”

“I see...”

Angeline looked around again, growing a little bashful at the thought that it wasn’t just animals but spirits watching her as well.

Belgrieve proceeded cautiously, his mind focused on every step. Soon, there was a haze of clouds over the sky, obscuring any good view of the stars. Angeline couldn’t see any silverwyrm grass either. It would be impossible to tell where they were going like this, yet Belgrieve continued.

She grew a little anxious. “Dad...”

“Yes?”

“Do you know where we’re going...?”

“Heh heh, your father has been here many times before—even before I was blessed with you.” He smiled. This forest around the foot of the mountain was practically his backyard.

All of a sudden, the trees opened up and the wind bellowed. This cold piercing wind forced Angeline to cover her face with her hands. She could hear the silky rustling of grass.

“Have a look, Ange,” Belgrieve gently told her.

She opened her eyes.

Glowgrass swayed as far as her eyes could see. Each flower was like a round chestnut-sized orb, giving off a pale blue light. With every gust of wind, pollen flickered and the lights moved about. Belgrieve’s profile was dimly lit from below, making him look like someone else entirely.

The scene could not have been of this world—for a while, Angeline was at a loss for words. The last time Belgrieve had taken her here, it had been during the day. The glowgrass had covered the ground all the same, but it wasn’t illuminated like this. Angeline found herself racing forth, making her way into the faint rows of light. They seemed strangely brilliant when observed from up close.

She turned, waving her hand. Belgrieve smiled and waved back.

○

The dark sky was dyed purple along the western mountain ridge. Despite all the stars in the sky, many were yet hidden, perhaps by the half-moon in the sky. A number of basketed fires had been lit along the narrow path to the river.

By the time the banquet—which started at noon—died down a bit, the villagers, each carrying a paper lantern, lit their torches and gathered at the river near the village. The runoff from the melted snow had made the river far larger and fiercer than usual. There was still a bit of ice remaining on its banks.

“To Almighty Vienna and our forefathers!”

The priest chanted a prayer and held up his flame. The villagers lit the candles in their paper lanterns and rested them on the water, to be carried off by the flow.

Belgrieve splashed a bit of liquor on the stamen of his pale blue glowgrass flower. It happened near instantaneously—the light turned red as if a flame had been lit within.

“All right, let it go.”

Angeline nodded, a bit anxious as she sent the glowgrass floating down the river. She watched as it joined the paper lanterns, teetering precariously back and forth before it ultimately sank into the river’s depths. However, while this would have extinguished the candles in the lanterns, the glowgrass light lingered just a little longer.

Angeline stared fixedly as the faint vermillion glow was carried further and further downstream.

“It’s pretty, dad...”

“Yeah.”

As the villagers began returning to the square to continue feasting, Angeline stood beside Belgrieve and watched the water flow by. The moonlight poured down on the earth, making the newly descended frost glisten beneath it.

A cold wind caught her by surprise, making her grasp at Belgrieve’s hand. She felt a sense of relief from his rough calluses and just knew that next year she would venture out to pick glowgrass with her father once more.