The festival began at sunset.

The village had transformed while no one was looking. Garlands of flowers hung from every hut. Lanterns made of hollowed gourds floated in the air, their soft light casting dancing shadows on the ground. The central fire had been built twice as high as usual, its flames reaching toward the darkening sky like hungry spirits.

And in the sky, the twin moons were rising.

Not staggered, not one following the other. Together. Side by side. Two silver coins pressed against the velvet dark.

The Moon’s Embrace had begun.

Bai Yue stood at the edge of the clearing, watching the tribe gather. The cubs were running in circles, too excited to stand still. The young beastmen had washed their fur until it gleamed. The females wore flowers in their hair and pretended not to notice the males staring at them.

She felt a hand on her waist.

"Come, my love," Zhāo Yàn murmured against her ear. "The festival waits for no one."

Bai Yue laughed and let him pull her toward the fire.

"The children are going to cause trouble," she said.

"The children always cause trouble." Zhāo Yàn’s tails fanned out behind him, catching the lantern light. "Tonight, let them. Tonight is for us."

Han Shān appeared on her other side, silent as falling snow. He did not speak. He simply offered his arm.

Bai Yue took it.

Yàn Shū hovered nearby, adjusting his glasses, his cheeks pink.

"Statistically," he said, "participation in festival rituals strengthens familial bonds by approximately—"

"Yàn Shū," Bai Yue said.

"Yes?"

"Come here."

He came.

Bai Yue grabbed his hand and pulled him into their small circle. The three husbands stood around her, shoulders nearly touching, and for a moment, the chaos of the village faded.

She was home.

~

The festival elder, a ancient wolf with fur the color of frost, stepped onto the central platform.

"Let the Moon’s Embrace begin!" he howled.

The crowd cheered.

"The young and unmated may present their cords," the elder continued. "The mated may renew their vows. And all may dance, feast, and remember why the moons blessed this world with love."

He raised his staff.

"Dance!"

The music started. Drums and flutes and something that sounded like wind chimes made of bone.

The tribe erupted.

Miao Miao found Ruì Xuě before the music even started.

She marched up to him, her amber eyes blazing, a woven cord in her hand.

Ruì Xuě’s ears went flat. His tail tucked. He looked like he wanted to disappear into the ground.

"I am giving you this," Miao Miao announced loudly. So that everyone could hear.

"You do not have to announce it," Ruì Xuě muttered.

"Yes I do."

"No you do not."

"Yes I do. Now hold still."

She tied the cord around his wrist before he could run away. Her fingers were quick and sure, like she had been practicing.

Ruì Xuě looked down at the cord. It was black and red, woven together, with a single white bead in the center.

"I made it myself," Miao Miao said. Her voice was softer now. "A-Li helped with the knot. Xiao Hei picked the bead."

Ruì Xuě stared at it.

"Why?" he asked.

Miao Miao tilted her head. "Why what?"

"Why would you give me a cord? We are already......we are already..."

"We are already what?"

Ruì Xuě’s face burned. He could not finish the sentence.

Miao Miao waited. Then she smiled.

"You are very cute when you are embarrassed," she said.

Ruì Xuě covered his ears with his hands. Miao Miao laughed and grabbed his arm.

"Come on. We are supposed to dance."

"I do not dance."

"You do now."

She pulled him toward the fire.

Ruì Xuě’s heart was pounding so hard he thought his chest might burst. But he did not pull away.

~

Yòu Lín found Glimmer near the edge of the crowd.

She was in her human form tonight, her green hair loose, her golden-green eyes soft. She was watching the dancers with an expression he could not read.

"Glimmer," he said.

She looked down. "Little fox."

"I am not little."

"You are very little."

"I am growing," Yòu Lín said, puffing out his chest. "I will be tall one day. Taller than you."

Glimmer’s lips twitched. "Impossible."

"Nothing is impossible."

She laughed. It was a small sound, barely audible over the drums, but Yòu Lín heard it.

He held out his hand.

"Dance with me," he said.

Glimmer looked at his hand. Then at his face. Her expression softened.

"You are very bold for someone so small."

"You already said I am small. You do not have to keep saying it."

She took his hand.

"I am only dancing because I am bored!" she said.

"Of course."

"And because you are persistent."

"Very persistent."

"And because..." She paused. Her cheeks went slightly pink. "Never mind."

She pulled him toward the fire.

Yòu Lín’s tail wagged so hard it was a blur.

~

Zhen sat alone on a log near the edge of the clearing.

She was wearing a flower behind her ear. A new one. Fresh. Not the dead one she had thrown away.

She was not looking for anyone.

She was definitely not looking for anyone.

Fēng Yá appeared in front of her. The tiger cub’s green eyes were bright, his orange and black stripes catching the lantern light.

"Zhen," he said.

"What?"

"You are sitting alone."

"I like sitting alone."

"You are supposed to dance."

"I do not want to dance."

Fēng Yá tilted his head. He was six months younger than her, but he was already taller. He looked at her with an intensity that made her shift on the log.

"Then sit with me," he said. "I do not want to dance either."

Zhen looked at his earnest face, considering his offer.

"Fine," she said. "But do not talk too much."

Fēng Yá sat down beside her.

They did not talk. They just watched the dancers.

From across the clearing, Tao Zi was watching them.

His hands were empty. His face was pale. He had not brought a cord. He had not brought flowers. He had brought nothing.

He watched Zhen laugh at something Fēng Yá said. Watched her tuck her hair behind her ear. Watched her lean slightly toward the tiger cub.

His chest hurt.

He looked down at his hands.

They were empty.

It didn’t take long for Fēng Yá to notice that Tao Zi was staring.

"He is looking at you again," he said.

Zhen did not turn around. "I do not care."

"You are lying."

"I am not."

"Your ears are pink."

Zhen’s hands flew to her ears. They were warm.

"It is the fire," she said.

"It is not."

"Shut up, Fēng Yá."

Fēng Yá did not shut up. He grinned, showing his small fangs.

"If you do not want him," he said, "can I give you a cord?"

Zhen stared at him.

"What?"

"A cord. For the festival. If you do not want him, can I give you one?"

Zhen’s mouth blubbered like a fish as she struggled with her words.

"I... you... we are friends."

"Friends can give cords."

"That is not what cords are for."

"Then what are they for?"

Zhen did not have an answer.

Fēng Yá waited. His green eyes were steady.

"You do not have to say yes," he said. "I just wanted to ask."

"No," Zhen said after much thinking. "But thank you for asking."

Fēng Yá nodded. He did not look sad. He just looked......understanding.

"Okay," he said. "Maybe next year."

"Maybe."

They sat in silence again.

Across the clearing, Tao Zi let out a breath he did not know he had been holding.