The Summer Bonfire Festival (Year 20)

Imagine the absolute bolt of electric anxiety that raced down her spine when she realized she was the first of Avalon to arrive. It zing'd straight down to the base of her tail, and she felt like her hackles would never be smooth again. Finch had danced around the border for a while, hanging back, hoping someone else would trail in first and she could ride the coattails of their entrance comfortably, but no such savior appeared. She hadn't shown up with empty paws - her parents had raised her better than that - but as she watched groups of pack wolves appear, laden with gifts and offerings to the bonfire, the one wax-sealed cask of mead she'd procured seemed paltry. Insufficient. Some might say embarrassing. Gulping down her fears, she shuffled in quietly at the rear of the latest procession.

Seeing most wolves stop and pay deference to the large blue-toned male and the delicately horned female next to him, Finch stopped briefly and stammered a polite thank you before dropping her mead off at the tables weighed down with delicious food and drink. She also had a young apple branch, still green and pliable, wrapped around the wax seal of the mead. Finch worried it loose with her teeth and waited for an opening to the tremendous bonfire. When one appeared, she deposited the branch among the other offerings and retreated to the edge of the festival, her eyes still darting around for a familiar face.