At last, the village chief of Lang steps up to the platform by the riverbank and gives his opening speech.
“Let the summer festival begin!” he calls out, short and simple.
Well, that’s it? A little underwhelming, honestly.
The music’s been playing in the background this whole time, but at the chief’s cue, everyone with an instrument starts performing in earnest.
“Zoe, let’s dance!” Maggie pulls a tambourine from her bag and grabs my hand.
I’d love to play my flute too, but dancing first sounds like more fun. There are lots of grown-ups playing flutes and drums already anyway.
I spot something that looks a bit like a guitar from my old world, and even a few harps. I should ask later if there’s a shop nearby that sells sheet music.
Children from all over—not just from Lang Village—are dancing now. The adults are mostly watching, though the younger ones look like they’re itching to join in.
Oh! One man just tried to ask a woman to dance but got teased by his friends and backed off.
Some folks are dancing with small drums, tambourines, or bells in their hands. The Lang Village kids are doing pretty well—probably thanks to my lessons. Even Maggie’s gotten better with her tambourine since we practiced.
She shakes it to make bouncy jingle-jangles and sometimes taps it with her palm.
The adults watching from the edge of the square are clearly impressed. The green ribbons tied to the tambourine flutter along with the music—so cute!
Since it’s tricky to dance and play the flute at the same time, I just add a few twirls to my steps.
This is so much fun!
Maggie and I are spinning and laughing when Matthew shows up.
“Let’s dance together!” he exclaims.
Well, it is a festival, so I suppose it’s fine. But… does Matthew like Maggie too?
I suddenly feel like a third wheel, so I step away and pick up my flute instead.
I could join the musicians, but they’re all adults I don’t know, so I wander slowly around the outside of the dancing circle while playing.
I’m thinking how wonderful summer festivals are when I notice an old woman sitting off to the side, looking rather displeased. And that bothers me.
I am a witch, after all. Still in training, and hopeless at being a Troubadour, but if I focus, I can sense magic and things like that.
Maggie has a little magical power, and Matthew has more than most.
Almost everyone in Lang Village has a small amount, even if they don’t know how to use it. Maybe they don’t have enough to cast proper spells.
Maggie’s father, though, seems to use body enhancement without realizing it. I don’t think an ordinary woodcutter could survive working in the Great Forest.
But this old lady… she’s giving off seriously grumpy vibes. And a strong magical presence too.
It makes me wonder why Lang Village even has such a big summer festival.
Maggie’s father didn’t know much about it, and the general store lady had only said, “I married into the village, so I don’t know.”
Hannah didn’t care about the meaning behind it either—she was more focused on the spike in festival clothing orders, since her husband hardly works.
Still playing my flute, I wander toward the bench where the old woman’s sitting.
Ugh. Maybe I should just leave it alone? She’s got that same prickly energy Selina gives off when she’s in a foul mood.
If she doesn’t like the festival, she could’ve stayed home...
I grumble inside, but I can’t fully enjoy myself with her mood looming over everything.
I stop playing and sit beside her. No one else is on the bench—probably because she looks so sour.
“This is my first time at Lang Village’s summer festival,” I say.
I want to ask about its origins, so I try to sound as polite and sweet as possible, like an innocent little girl.
She glances at me. Just a glance. Rude.
But I was raised by Selina, the world’s worst guardian. I’m not scared off that easily.
“It’s such a grand festival for a small village,” I go on. “I don’t even know what we’re celebrating.”
She glares at me. I nearly flinch—but yes, the festival really is what’s put her in a mood.
Well, I’m used to being glared at by Selina.
“Come to think of it,” I continue gently, “is there some story or meaning behind the summer festival?”
That does it. The old woman suddenly starts talking like a dam’s burst.
“The previous chief understood the importance of the rain-calling ritual. But that young fool only cares about profit!”
She must mean the current village chief—Matthew’s father—not Matthew himself. Right?
“Eh? But isn’t that still the point? Calling for rain? I heard that’s why they hold it by the riverbank.”
Pretty sure that’s what Maggie’s father told me, though he wasn’t too sure.
“In the old days, the summer festival was held properly at the waterfall shrine!” she snaps. “Now they say silly things like ‘you can’t set up food stalls there’ or ‘it’s too hard for outsiders to come’! This winter brought hardly any snow. We must perform the ritual properly and call for rain—or we’ll have a drought!”
She leaps to her feet and yells, “If we don’t do the rain-calling right, we’ll have a drought!”
The villagers ignore her like she’s just the eccentric old woman shouting again.
“Mother! Please, stop this!”
Someone who’s probably her son hurries over and gently takes her hand, leading her away.
But for some reason, I feel restless. Uneasy.
Didn’t we have lots of snow?
Even if it was just flurries in the Great Forest, Lang Village definitely got blizzards.
Still... I can’t shake the feeling that what she said might not be nonsense.