As Tryss landed beside his father, he gazed around in admiration. As always, the variety and workmanship of the masks was amazing. There were animal masks, insect masks and flower masks; masks adorned with patterns and masks covered in symbols. He gasped as he saw one carefully carved to represent a Siyee with wings outstretched, smiled at a man whose head had been “replaced” by a large hand, then laughed aloud at a woman whose mask was an enormous ear.

Girls hurried past, giggling, their masks made entirely of feathers. An old man hobbled in the other direction, his gray hair streaming out from beneath a worn representation of a fish head. Two small boys narrowly missed Tryss’s legs as they hurtled past, one face hidden by a sun, the other half-covered by a crescent moon.

As Tryss followed his father to their usual place in the great circle, he put a hand up to straighten his own mask. It seemed bland and foolish next to some that he had seen—simply a repainted autumn-leaf design from a trei-trei festival a few years before. He’d had no time to make a new one, with all his spare time dedicated to practicing using his new harness and blowpipes.

Drilli was pleased with his progress, though he still missed his targets as often as he hit them. She had assured him that people didn’t expect archers to hit their target every time, so they wouldn’t expect him to either. He wasn’t so sure. When the time came to demonstrate his invention, he needed to dazzle and impress. He needed to prove that this method was better than hunting with a bow from the ground or setting traps.

He sighed. Tonight he wanted to forget all that. The summer trei-trei, held late in the season, was the last festive Gathering before the long winter began; a last opportunity for feasting and wasting energy in acrobatic flying.

And this year he had a partner.

As Tryss’s parents took their places among their tribe, two voices rose above the general chatter.

“…seen it before, haven’t you?”

“Yes. Three years ago, I think. A bit of fresh paint doesn’t make an old mask look good again, does it? And an autumn leaf in summer! Can’t even get the season right.”

Tryss decided it would be better to pretend he hadn’t heard the voices, but his mother looked in their direction.

“You’re not getting along with your cousins anymore, are you?”

She sounded concerned. Tryss shrugged.

“They’re not getting along with me,” he replied. “Not since I got sick of them making me look stupid so they looked better, anyway,” he added quietly.

Her eyebrows rose. “So that’s why. I thought it was something else.”