He was never the type to mince words. But it seemed his agreement to her assumptions of the pack status had only added a boulder to her back rather than validate her grievances. Hm.
At his mention of adding a festival though the great bear perked up. He brought his gaze up to the withering plants around them. Winter was already threatening to overwhelm them. He could tell how the cool stream bit into the mud and the reeds had long since dried and fell into the water.
"It would take some time to prepare. We have already missed the time for a Holy Hunt so perhaps we could celebrate the Festivals of Colors come spring." His eyes grew glassy as he remembered watching the festival goers mingle and play among the dyes in his youth, "On the day of the first full moon of spring, we would celebrate the breaking of winter and inspire the goddess to paint the flowers as they bloom with a striking array of beautiful powdered dyes thrown at each other. There is feasting and dancing and even a market open in the morning hours. Then as the sun reaches its zenith at midday preparations are made to begin the color fight. Whoever is covered the most with a singular color by sundown is fitted for a scarf or sash of that color." He remembered watching a beautiful white wolf win the last festival covered in a fantastic array of golds, and greens and swathed in bright magenta from nose tip to tail tip.
He turned back to Saga with a warm smile, "The colors wash out, eventually. Sometimes they linger in light fur for a few days." His tail had started to thump lightly on the ground as he was caught up in the memories for a moment.
"We would have to find some sources for the seven dyes, and I hardly think our stores would help us throw much of a feast come springtime. But it could be just the thing to breathe life into us."
"Our character is often revealed at our highs and lows... Be humble at the mountaintops, be steadfast in the valleys. Be faithful in between." - marcandangel.