Chapter 90: A Stroll Around Festival Grounds II

Chapter 89: A Stroll Around Festival Grounds II

"What’s that?" Sophia asked Orion, pointing towards another stall.

Orion turned his gaze towards what she pointed.

"You’re curious aren’t you?" He asked her.

She gave him a nod. He took her hand and led her towards the stall, bidding the vendor that sold the snacks goodbye and wishing him a good festival.

According to Orion, this day wasn’t a happy one so instead of wishing people a happy festival when most people still remembered what had happened twenty years ago, they had decided to wish people a good festival instead.

"Have a good festival and I hope your people watch over you." Sophia told the man who beamed at her.

"He smiled." She told Orion as he led her towrds the other stall she pointed.

"He will." He told her with a smile. "That’s the normal greeting for this festival. It’s not a happy day but praying and hoping that our lost family members remember us is better than wishing someone a happy festival."

"Who came up with that?" She asked him.

"A child." He told her with a smile.

"You?"

"No."

"Then who?"

"A child?"

"Which child?"

"A boy."

"What boy?" She asked him.

"You are not going to drop this are you?" He asked her with a sigh.

"No."

"Funny enough, it was someone who didn’t lose any family on this day, but even young, he understood what this day was." Orion told her. "It was Tobias."

"Oh." She said.

"Yes, oh. So now can we move on with the reason we are here?" He asked her.

"We are already at the stall." She pointed out with a smile as she took in the stall.

Several shallow bowls lined a long, low table draped in deep green cloth. They weren’t filled with food or trinkets but with water. Inside each bowl darted tiny white fish no bigger than her finger. Their scales were pearly and translucent. They flickered like frost when the light touched them, vanishing and reappearing as they moved. And they moved fast like they were one with the water. The bowls were shallow but wide. Above the bowls hung silver ribbons cut into waves, giving the impression of water flowing from above.

Sophia stared transfixed at the scene.

The vendor behind the table, a thin man with sleeves rolled to his elbows, was sorting small nets made from reeds and silk thread. He glanced up, his face stern until recognition dawned. His eyes widened slightly. "Alpha Orion. Good morning."

Orion dipped his head politely. "Good morning, Jerek."

The man’s gaze flickered between Sophia and Orion nervously. "Um...we’re not open yet, but if you’d like to..."

Orion raised a hand. "No need to change the rules for me. We’ll wait like everyone else."

Sophia turned to the bowls, bending slightly. One of the little white fish darted to the surface, mouth opening and closing.

"What are they called?" she asked, voice hushed, like she might scare them away.

Orion’s smile was small but real. "Moonfins," he said. "They’re rare even here. At night, their scales glow like stars." He told her.

"But if they are rare why use them for the game?" She asked him.

"They have a short life span. And we are not really hurting them anyway." He told her.

"What’s the game about?" She asked.

"It’s simple: you’re given a net, you scoop as many as you can before time is up and then you win a gift. If you can get the king or queen then you get the best gift."

"How do you know who the queen or king is?" She asked him, her gaze focused solely on the fishes.

"They are the fastest. The become one with the water once they are below the surface which is why this game can only be played at night. Once they are submerged in water, you can see them glow and catch them." He told her.

"But I can see them now." She told him.

"You can see some." The vendor spoke kindly. "Those that want to be seen and are too young to be part of the game."

"What do you mean?" She asked him.

"They can’t glow yet. Most of them here are still too young, they need to be exposed to the sunlight and absorb it so they glow at night." He told her.

"But Orion says they glow like stars. Wouldn’t absorbing the moonlight be better?" She asked, her head tilted to the side as she stared at the man with a frown etched in her face.

"That’s another mystery of Nirvana we’ve yet to uncover." He told her.

Sophia nodded. "It’s like magic really flows here. Everything is so different. Even the fruits are weird."

"We all are weird." Orion told her with a laugh.

"So I can’t play now?" She asked them.

"No. But you can do so at night. If you find me, I’ll come with you." Orion told her.

"I’ll hold you to that." She told him.

They bid goodbye to the vendor and moved on, the sound of water, fading behind them.

Ahead, a different kind of stall came into view. It wasn’t dressed in cloth or charms. Instead, a single massive wooden target stood propped on a stand, circles painted in black and red, and at the center was a small diamond-shaped mark. There were no prizes displayed, no vendor calling out, just the target alone.

Sophia pointed. "What about that one? What’s it about?"

Orion’s eyes flicked to it. "That one’s simpler," he said. "You throw a dagger, hit the center, and you win a prize. But like the others..."

"It opens at night," she finished for him.

He chuckled. "Exactly."

Her eyes stayed on the target, hungry. "Show me?"

He reached inside his cloak and drew out a slim dagger, its hilt dark and plain. She blinked. "You had that this whole time?"

His grin turned wolfish. "A man has his secrets."

Sophia crossed her arms. "You were walking around with that and I didn’t notice?"

He winked. "I’m good at hiding things."

She muttered something under her breath, but her eyes didn’t leave the dagger.

Orion stepped closer to the target. Without a word he flicked his wrist. The blade sang through the air and struck the diamond center with a satisfying thunk.

Sophia clapped before she could stop herself. "That was amazing!"

He strode to the target, pulled the dagger free, and returned, twirling it idly. "Too bad I can’t get the prize. The stall isn’t opened yet."

"Can you teach me?" She asked him.

His brow rose. "You?"

"Yes. Why not?"

He tilted his head, studying her. "Incase you forgot, you are short...shorty."

Her mouth dropped open.

He smirked. "You think you can even reach the target?"

"I’ll try." She shrugged.

He chuckled low in his throat. "All right, then. Lesson one: stance."

He handed her the dagger. She held it awkwardly, like a kitchen knife. And he knew from knowledge that she could nit handle a kitchen knife.

"No," he said, stepping behind her. His hands closed gently around hers, adjusting her grip. "Like this. Place your thumb here, not there. The blade should be an extension of your arm."

She swallowed. His voice had dropped to a low murmur.

He guided her feet with a light nudge of his boot. "Left foot forward. Release your shoulders. Don’t lock them."

She nodded, heart pounding.

"Good," he murmured near her ear. She could feel the warmth of his chest against her back now, the scent of pine and something darker, leather and frost. His breath stirred a strand of her hair.

Her pulse skipped as she tightened her grip on the dagger.

"Breathe," he said. His hand pressed lightly to her stomach. "Here. Breathe from here. Don’t tense up."

She inhaled shakily.

"Now," he said softly, stepping back but still close enough to be a shadow at her side. "Throw."

She threw. The dagger spun awkwardly and clattered against the ground halfway to the target.

He moved to pick it up, laughing under his breath. "That was... a start."

She chuckled too. "I followed your instructions."

"That, you did, again," he said, handing it back. "And don’t choke the handle. It’s not a wild animal. Not like you can even face one."

She glared at him, adjusted her grip, threw again. This time it skidded off the outer ring and fell.

"Better," he said, retrieving it once more. "But still sloppy. You’re thinking too hard."

"I’m not..."

"Yes, you are, don’t lie." He stepped behind her again, closer now. His hands covered hers fully, guiding the angle. "Focus on the center, not your arm. Feel the weight. Let it go."

His body was warm against her back, his deep tenor was low and shot through her like a current. She could feel every rise of his chest as he breathed. Her own heartbeat thundered in her ears.

"Relax," he murmured. "Don’t fight it."

She exhaled, almost trembling.

"Now," he whispered.

She threw. The dagger flew straight and struck the target with a clean, solid thunk, just outside the center.

"I hit it!" she gasped.

"Closer," he said, retrieving it. "Once more."

She squared her shoulders, eyes shining now. He handed her the dagger again. This time she needed no instruction. She breathed from her stomach like he’d told her, lifted, and let the blade fly.

Thunk!

Dead center.

She squealed, clapping her hands. "I did it!"

Then she spun, grinning, and stopped.

Orion was crouched on one knee, one hand braced on his stomach, the other still holding the dagger. He was laughing, but there was a grimace in it too.

"You did it and took two targets at once." he said between chuckles.

Her joy collapsed into panic. "What? Did I..."

"You hit me," he said, still laughing. "Right in the stomach and hard. How is it that your fragile self can pack a hit like that?"

Her hands flew to her mouth. "I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to..."

"Really?" He asked her with a wince. "You sure you didn’t do this because I called you short?"

She huffed as she fought a laugh. "I am short though."

Orion paused in shock from her words then released a laugh, the pain forgotten.