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The hooded women whirled and writhed about the circle, dipping through their own flaming hoops and rolling and spinning the poles along their bodies. Most of the remaining crowd cheered and stomped along with their tempo, drunkenly taking up their same chant. The words made no sense to me, except for the word Litha of course, but I recognized the cadence and lyrical sound of Senuan, the ancient fae language. Byrgir and I chanted and stomped along with them. I was mesmerized by their dance.

At last, the mysterious women ended their dance with a coordinated stomp, shouting the last word of their chant andraising their flaming instruments to the salmon-pink sky. The crowd howled and cheered. The band struck up again as the women swung their flaming poles and hoops hard through the night air to extinguish them, then dropped their hoods, displaying smiling faces. The crowd closed the circle and absorbed the four of them into the next dance.

We danced until my feet hurt, until my cheeks ached and my abdominal muscles burned from laughter. Until Byrgir was holding me up more than I was dancing on my own. Finally, we stumbled from the small crowd of remaining fervent dancers and collapsed onto the grass together. The sun was climbing back into the sky. The sky bled lavender, then pastel-pink, and finally brilliant orange above the trees.

Couples slipped from the light of the bonfire into the shadows of the forest as we caught our breath. My chest ached when I looked at Byrgir’s fire-lit face, not just from the exertion of dancing, but from nervousness and a deep, growing desire.

He glanced at me, still chuckling from our last attempt at dancing. “What are you smiling at?”

“Nothing, just laughing.”

“At me?”

“No, just at… I don’t know. I’m drunk, I guess,” I laughed.

“Oh good, I was worried you were just really shit at dancing,” he said.

I punched his arm playfully.

“We should get you to bed then, kid. Where are you staying?” he asked, still chuckling.

“Just at the Red Hind,” I said.

“I’ll walk you home.”

“So soon?” I asked.

“Soon?” he said incredulously, gesturing at the sky. “It’s not even late anymore, it’s early! The sun is already rising again.”

“Yes, but it does that as soon as it sets. Doesn’t mean it’s morning yet,” I argued.

“Do you want to dance more?” he asked, humor still in his voice. “Because you seem like you can barely stand.”

“No, I’m too tired,” I answered.

“What do you want, then?” he asked, meeting my gaze.

I swallowed, suddenly struck by how close his body was to mine, how completely I held his attention. I was unable to voice what I was thinking. Uncertain if I even should.

“What do you want?” Byrgir repeated, the smile fading from his lips. His gaze slipped down my face, tracing the line of my nose, his eyes lingering on my mouth.

“I just don’t want this night to be over yet,” I said. A partial truth.

“Me neither,” he said, his gaze still on my lips. Then he raised his eyes to mine. “But it’s late, and if I let you back on the dance floor you might hurt yourself. Let’s go.”

He stood and offered me a hand, pulling me up. An energetic tingle shot up my arm where our skin touched, his hand engulfing my own, the calluses of his palm rough against mine.

We talked and laughed as we walked through the dark woods.

We were just on the edge of town, nearing the inn, when a piercing scream resounded from the nearby hill. We both stopped and turned instinctively. Another scream followed, then another, then more, all carrying down from the hill of the first bonfire we had danced around.

Byrgir grabbed my arm, all cheerfulness gone from his expression. “Get to the inn,” he commanded.

“What?” I stammered.

“To the inn, now,” he growled, pushing me away gently as he stepped toward the continuing sounds of pain and mayhem.

“Where are you going? I want to go with you!” I moved to follow him.