When loss and misery are around you, grip them tight. Hold close the pain and let it remind you that you are of this world, for the dead do not ache as I have made you ache.

"Here, try these on!" Iyan turned in time to catch the bundle of clothes thrown at him by a recently appearing Fetrick. Where he had been, he wouldn't say, but he did carry with him an armful of clothes, sticks, and pails of what Iyan assumed were paint.

"How do you know my size?" he asked, when he emerged from behind his tree of privacy, soft clothes clinging sensually to his skin. Whatever the fabric, it was heavenly; unlike anything Iyan had ever worn before, the shirt alone put a shame to all that Tottenham Cross had to offer.

"You're slight," came the laughing response. Fetrick threw more clothes to the small gathering, the pails hooped on his fingers rattling against one another. "Here, give me your old clothes - the fire needs fuel!" Iyan gasped and lurched backwards, clutching his folded shirt to his chest.

"Never!"

"What do you want with it, then?" asked Tehn as he shrugged a shirt on as well. Iyan tried very hard not to look down as the momentarily shirtless Tehn doffed his day-old clothing, no regard for shame or embarrassment. How very liberating, Iyan thought jealously, though he still turned his red face away.

"They... they're my clothes!"

"Dirty clothes," interjected the twins, and they held up their hands, palms facing upwards. They sat next to Tehn, somehow already wearing their replacement clothes. What a curious pair, they were! Iyan stared at them with a half-smile, before shaking his head.

"My clothes."

"Don't be silly," whispered Tehn. He stood up, fabric covering the snowy skin of his belly. Stepping as close as Iyan's presence would allow, Tehn reached around him and gently tugged the clothes free. "We can give you better ones anyway, yes?" Powerless to resist, Iyan reluctantly surrendered the bundle and squeezed his eyes shut. Oh, let him go away! He could feel Tehn's body heat (or lack thereof; everybody here seemed devoid of warm breath or skin) against his own skin, and the sensation was dizzying. Successful, Tehn stepped away, not before trailing a hand across Iyan's shoulders.

Once the group had been dressed, Iyan took his seat beside the twins and awaited the rest of Fetrick's excited explanations. The redhead was clearly eager to share more of what he had brought along, and refused to be silent for even a moment.

"We all need seven," he said with a breathless grin. He threw a bundle of sticks at each person, Tehn catching all of his in one hand. Noticing the entranced stare of the foreigner (how the tables had been reversed, laughed Iyan to himself, as he had been a native not so long ago), Tehn flashed a gentle smile, his teeth glimmering hypnotically in the flickering light of a nearby fire.

"What are we making?" Iyan waved a stick in front of his face to avoid any attention, quite oblivious that the entire group could see plainly his feelings towards the Tehn.

"Crowns." The twins leaned forward and snatched the stick from Iyan. "Watch!" Weaving the sticks together, they layered the smaller ones over the larger, until the crude shape of a circular device was resting triumphantly in their hands. Never had Iyan heard them make as much noise as they did laughing at his expression of awe! He told himself the laughter was good-natured, and took the crown from them to stare at its handiwork closely. The sticks, it seemed, had already been cut, carved with strange images and symbols.

"What do these mean," he asked, pointing to a detailed deer on one of the branches. Fetrick jumped in front of him and peered down at it.

"Lucky you," he said, prodding the crown gently. "These were all randomly selected from a fucking pile the Mother made -" here, Fetrick waved his arms and gestured in what was supposed to be an estimation of said pile - "so I didn't pick it out!" This only gave Iyan far more questions than even one answer, which he kindly pointed out.

"It stands for quite a lot of things," the twins whispered, each one holding up their right index finger. "Innocence, purity, youth, to name a few of them."

"Why does that make me lucky?" The helpless question procured a host of laughter, which was echoed by the larger gathering of festivities further into the woods. Tehn slid close and proceeded to explain the purpose of the crowns, holding Iyan's up and pointing out each detail's significance. The animal carved into the main stick represented the duty of the celebrant; in Iyan's case, he was new to the celebration, a virgin in their world. The wording made him cough, but Tehn continued, too excited to share. Each word (for that is what was carved on the sticks, various words in the Catrodean language) offered a protection against the night, against those that roamed outside of the gaze of the fire, against injury or illness in the coming walk.

"Those?" Iyan looked up at Tehn and felt his heart shake.

"Not everybody that lives in our beautiful country is so happy to be here," was all the white figure said by way of reply, and he nodded to Fetrick. Throwing a pail, Fetrick saw to it that everybody had one of their own, though Iyan did notice the number was exact. Why had one not been fetched for Kairie? He resolved to ask after the Felling explained the paint.

"Obviously," came the eye-rolling reply, "we paint them now! Green is for good luck; blue is for your wits; black is for secrecy against that which walks, and yellow is for passion!"

"Why would anybody paint theirs yellow? And, why are there people living here that don't want to?" Fetrick huffed, impatient that he was being interrupted.

"Perhaps you might want to steal the attentions of someone you've fancied, and only tonight, buried in the woods, can you hope to win their hearts!"

"And the people?"

"Gods above, you're persistent." Fetrick snorted. "You tell him," he said to the twins. "as well-versed in superstitious lore as you are." This appeared a great compliment to the twins. They wriggled in their clothes and clasped one another's hands. Iyan had never met a set of twins before, but he wondered if being so biologically attached to someone rendered you strange. Then, it could have been this country, and a mere byproduct of having grown up amongst charms, sticks, and midnight treks into the woods as a community.

"Not all who come to Catrodea find that it is what they had wished it to be." Picking up their bundle of sticks, they began to weave one another's crowns. "Some, still, grow to hate us. It is a common enough thing - we are more isolated than the other countries we have read of." Iyan wanted to ask another question, but they held up their crowns, finished before Iyan could even really track their progress.

"Now paint it," whined Fetrick, rattling the paint pail with a spare twig.

Once their crowns were decorated accordingly (Tehn had helped Iyan paint his green and black), the group moved into the woods, towards the rest of the festival. Why it needed to move, Iyan couldn't tell. Perhaps strange and horrible things would happen further in, things that involved water and spiders and ghosts, that the main road shouldn't have access to. The though gave him shivers, and he laughed it away. What would have truly made him more comfortable was if Kairie appeared, if she revealed herself from the shadows. Tehn's close presence was calming, to be sure, and his hands were soft and kind, but Iyan had come to Catrodea for Kairie alone. His sense of uneasiness would not be dispelled as long as she was gone. None of the party could say where it was the redhead had run off to, though. Fetrick was the last to see her, but he claimed she had left him well before he had the chance to gather his crown materials from the Mother (another question for Iyan to chew on, the identity of this mother figure). As standing in the abandoned field closer to the village was out of the question, Iyan simply had to walk on.

Fortunately enough, the twins discovered the source of drink, once they had penetrated the crowd. Some people already had on crowns of their own, greens and yellows frequent. Most everybody wore the same clothes, that shimmering, not-quite-white fabric that slithered against Iyan's body. He wondered at the material used, that it should be in such high abundance, but Fetrick had snatched a drink from one of the twins and thrust it into Iyan's hand before he could conjure up any more questions.

"Drink, blue-eyes!" Nudging everybody's arms together, the twins declared another toast, the words of which were lost amidst the noise. The words didn't really matter, Iyan supposed, not when everyone was so eager to get drunk and forget themselves a while. Aunt Myra would kill me, he thought with teary eyes. Leaning his head back, he threw the drink down his throat, the slippery, cold texture chilling every vein nearby as it worked its way into his system. He gasped - how very different it was, from the first! Whatever was in this brew, it was filled with spices and herbs, giving the flavour a sharp kick that Iyan surely hadn't been expecting. He began to cough, once the drink was gone, and much to the amusement of the gathering. "I never used to drink," he wheezed, bent over at the waist. He clutched his knees and tried to inhale, but with every breath came a fresh stab of pain.

Knowing that Iyan was in full health and completely safe, the group of friends hoisted him back to his feet and dragged him along the crowd. So quickly did the alcohol take effect in his system that Iyan wondered if there wasn't a drug in it - his feet could barely lift themselves from the ground, his head hardly remained upright. How strange this all was! The colours of the world seemed to throb and pulsate in the dark; every crown that had been painted shone like a beacon. Was this why there were black ones? That was the only crown Iyan couldn't see, and he laughed aloud at the genius of it.

"Where are you going?" he heard someone call, but he didn't know where the voice came from.

"I... I have to relieve myself," he whispered in response, stumbling past the crowd and pushing his way through more cold bodies. When he tripped his way behind a sturdy tree, he paused, holding a palm to the trunk. How warm this was by comparison to the people! Turning to face the black wilderness, he nearly gasped himself into another coughing fit.

Standing in the dark, somehow not invisible amidst the shadows, was Kairie. Her hair blew out in every direction, each curl taking on the wind as though underwater. On her pale right shoulder (here, Iyan squinted; Kairie's skin was a dusky brown, and would have required years in the dark to develop the pale shade it had now) sat a crow, its beak glinting and wet.

"Miss Felling," he whispered, taking a tentative step forward. "Miss Felling, what... what are you doing out there?" She did not answer him, usuprisingly - something was very wrong about her and her mannerisms. It was most unlike Kairie, to stand still and stare so emptily. "Please, don't just stand there!" Iyan wanted to back up, escape and rejoin the crowd until Kairie had resolved her standing-and-staring, but before he could take a step, she opened her mouth. The image was most unsettling; there was something in her mouth, gleaming from between her lips.

The crow on her shoulder shrieked, and Iyan fell over in shock. As he scrambled to find his footing, the black bird began to talk, its voice like ragged flesh and rocks being scraped together. "The day shall last for three. Spies shall be rid of their eyes, the afraid of their hesitation. Each night shall bring greater glory. You will be lifted up, Blue-Eyes; be afraid no longer." Iyan almost laughed aloud - he was hallucinating! He was likely making a fool of himself in front of the twins and Fetrick and Tehn, that was most obvious. Blue-eyes, he thought with a cross sort of laugh. Oh, they could have done better!

His hope that he was imagining what he saw was quickly replaced by a sobering, grounded fear. Kairie had lifted her arms, and pulled from her mouth what could only be an eye. It shone against some unseen light source, stared directly at him.

"The day shall last for three," the crow repeated, even as the eye stared.

"Hey, you," a voice broke in, and Iyan whirled around to find that Tehn had gone looking for him. "What are you doing over here?"

"I thought... I saw," Iyan stuttered, whipping back to look at Kairie, but she was gone. There was no crow, no wild display of red hair, no eye. What had it meant? Why would he have seen something like that? If it was only a hallucination, it had to have been the most vivid one ever witnessed.

"Come along, they're moving again," whispered Tehn, and he took Iyan's hand in his own. At a loss for words, Iyan could do nothing but follow after the albino and shiver at the image of the crow and the eye as they had spoken to him. Iyan was not sure he liked this stronger drink.