The ground shook in time with the beating drums. The valley echoed with the roar of the crowd. The clear night sky glowed with the flickering bonfires.

  Syl ignored it all. The Ka-Sho was everything. It consumed her. Some small part of her brain registered the drums. Registered the beat that was supposed to lead her dance. Supposed to, but didn’t. If anything, she led the drums.

  The rhythm of the Ka-Sho trailed her movements like floating strands of gossamer. There it hung, for a heartbeat and no more, before the bone-deep thump of the drums and her fellow dancers snatched it up. Syl wasn’t in the centre of the circle of dancers, but she was the centre of the dance.

  As she moved, others followed. The weight of the crowd shifted to get a better view, dancers spun in the circle around her, and Ancestors above bore witness to her dance.

  Syl shifted seamlessly from En-Da to Pal-Bok with the changing tempo of the smaller, faster drums. The crowd’s thunderous voice quieted, mesmerized by her movements, to be replaced by stomping feet and clapping hands in time with the heavy drums that guided her strikes.

  Her focus turned inward, and the faces around her blurred. It didn’t matter who was watching or dancing beside her. All that mattered was the Ka-Sho.

  There was only the rhythm. It thrummed through her veins like her blood. It beat her heart and filled her lungs. Her every lunge shook the ground like a titan’s step. Her every punch snapped the air like a whip.

  The drums’ intensity built, the tempo demanding more and more. Sweat sheened Syl’s skin and glistened in the firelight. Muscles screamed as she leapt into the air, vaulting as high as she was tall, before flipping over and slamming her fist back down to the ground.

  But the drums wouldn’t let her rest.

  She rose in a smooth spin, sucking air into her lungs for the final burst. With a cadence that bordered on impossible, Syl exploded into motion. Hands and feet a blur, gravity seemingly had no pull on her. She struck and she danced. She jumped and she rolled. And then all at once, she stopped, her foot held for the final stomp.

  The entire village paused. Every drum, every villager. Nothing breathed. Nothing moved. It all hung by a thread. For her.

  The heartbeat she paused stretched for an eternity.

  The primal force of the Ka-Sho filled her. The cool night air kissed her skin. The sweet smells of the village tickled her nose. And the building anticipation of the crowd energized her. But not as much as her own eagerness.

  Unable to contain it a second longer, a small smile curved her lips.

  As if that smile were a sign, time snapped back to normal speed, and her foot slammed down to finish her dance. A thousand feet came down with hers. A thousand pairs of hands came together. The drums pounded. The valley itself shook under their power.

  Then the cheering started. A booming roar that spread Syl’s small smile with pride. Friends’ hands clapped on her shoulders and she turned to find her smile mirrored on their faces.

  The next moments hazy, she nodded and responded to shared words of praise before leaving the ring. She didn’t try to stand out, but the eyes of the crowd followed her as she parted from the others.

  “No holding back huh?” Dena, her best friend, asked and playfully punched her in the shoulder.

  “We might as well crown you winner and take the rest of the feast off,” Reylo added, then blushed furiously when Syl turned to look at him.

  “It’s not like that…” Syl started.

  “Of course, it is,” Leeze piped up. “I specifically wore this outfit so that Nak would look at my legs. But not a single eye in the entire crowd was on me. If you’ve ruined my chances with him…” she said with a glare and fingered the carved-bone pendant she was never without.

  “Isn’t that Nak over there by the ahbay?” Kule pointed out. “Is he old enough to drink that yet?”

  “Of course, he is! He’s a man,” Leeze said, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in her outfit.

  “Well, at least Henna isn’t around. She seems to have just as much of a thing for Nak as you do,” Kule added.

  As if on cue, a young woman with flawless skin, long legs, and shimmering black hair stepped out of the crowd beside Nak. She handed him a cup, said something quietly, and the two shared an intimate laugh.

  “KUUUUUULE!!!” Leeze snarled and spun. Kule was wisely already dashing off in the other direction. Leeze was after him in a flash.

  “Boy needs to keep his mouth shut,” Dena chuckled.

  “It’s like magic,” Syl agreed. “Was my Ka-Sho really that good?” she went back to the earlier topic.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “You must have felt it,” Dena said with a smile. “You always say you can feel the dance. That really was something else today. Maybe the best I’ve ever seen you.”

  Syl’s cheeks warmed at the praise, and the image of Reylo’s constant blushing flashed through her mind. Was that what she looked like?

  “I’m sure even Rogar would admit you won that round,” Dena continued, smiling at her friend’s flushing, and turned towards the aforementioned youth.

  Rogar crossed his arms but didn’t look her in the eye. “I’m glad we weren’t sparring,” he grumbled, then turned and walked away.

  “Did… he… just compliment you?” Dena asked, genuine surprise on her face.

  “I think he’s admitting he can’t win this year,” Reylo shrugged. “None of us can.”

  ‘C’mon guys, you…” Syl said.

  “Syyyyyyyyyllllllll!” Xelly yelled a split second before crashing into her. Eight years her junior, he already came up to her chest, and she had to struggle to keep her balance. “You were amazing,” her brother went on, a mix of pride and admiration in his eyes.

  “You saw?” she asked him as she tussled his hair.

  “I almost forgot to breathe!” he exclaimed. He was a bit prone to over-exaggeration. “Can you be my Sho-Sen when I’m old enough? I want to fight like you!”

  “It’s not for fighting,” Syl said with a smile. “It’s a dance… that we sometimes use for sparring…” she amended under Xelly’s disbelieving glare.

  “A dance that every partner in the village is too afraid to join you for,” Dena chimed in.

  “With good reason,” Syl’s mother added as she joined the small group. “That was beautiful, Syl.”

  Enna, Syl’s mother, had won the Ka-Sho-Dan when she was fifteen years old. She was Syl’s inspiration. When Syl won in her first year, at the age of only twelve, her mother’s eyes had shone with pride. That pride had only grown with each consecutive year, and victory, but there was something new there with it this time.

  Respect.

  Syl didn’t have the words to express her appreciation for the look on Enna’s face. So, she simply wrapped her arms around her in a tight hug while the drums began anew.

  The second wave of dancers would be taking the stage.

  Syl pulled away from her mother, “Should we go check out the competition?” she asked Dena.

  Dena burst into laughter. “Competition? For you?” She was actually laughing so hard tears were running down her cheeks.

  “What would you suggest we do then?” Syl crossed her arms and asked her friend flatly.

  “Eat!” Dena said with gusto, slapping her fist into the palm of her other hand. “There’s enough roasting meat around here to… feed… a village…” she said lamely, as that was exactly the point of the feast. “And then there’s the pies.” Dena gave Enna a look of deep appreciation on that point.

  “Then you might want to hurry. A few of them didn’t make it to the feast on account of somebody…” Enna’s gaze shifted to a shrinking Xelly.

  “I asked Nikk to help me bring the pies out to the tables! I didn’t know he was going to eat all of them,” Xelly said, but he didn’t look up at his mother.

  “And the cherry filling I found on your cheek?” Enna asked.

  “I told you! I don’t know how that got there,” Xelly said flatly.

  But Syl was watching Dena. As soon as ‘cherry’ touched the air, her eyes opened wide in fear.

  “Did… any of the pies… make it?” Dena asked, her face as serious as if she were asking about a terminally ill patient.

  “I don’t know. Nikk was really hungry and…” Xelly trailed off when he looked at Dena. Her eyes had narrowed from surprise to that of planned vengeance. Xelly very carefully chose his next words, his life depending on them. “… and I know there were at least a dozen he couldn’t have possibly eaten all by himself…” he finished with an audible gulp.

  Dena leaned down to eye level with the youngster. “You’d best be telling the truth Xelly… or else…”

  The boy was foolish enough to ask, “Or else what?”

  “Or else...this!” Dena exclaimed as she tackled him and began to tickle mercilessly.

  Close friends their entire lives, Xelly was as much Dena’s little brother as he was Syl’s. When Xelly reached out with a pleading hand towards Enna and Syl, neither rushed to his aid. He’d gotten himself into this.

  A minute that must’ve felt like an eternity later, Dena finally relented and stood triumphantly. Xelly lay gasping for air on the ground, though his smile stretched from ear to ear.

  “And… that’s… just the… beginning…” Dena said, breathing heavily from the tickle attack so soon after her Ka-Sho. “Expect something a thousand times worse if I don’t find my cherry pie!” she threatened, then grabbed Syl’s arm and led her off into the crowd.

  “See you later,” Syl called over her shoulder to her mother while Enna helped Xelly get up and dusted him off.

  “Have fun,” Enna called with a small wave.

  “Think they’ll let us have some of the ahbay?” Dena asked while weaving through the crowd.

  “We’re not eighteen yet,” Syl countered. Her father let her try the strong alcohol once. It had her head spinning and her stomach heaving. The next day…

  Her head hurt just thinking about it, and she didn’t need a repeat in the middle of the Ka-Sho-Dan.

  “We’re so close though!” Dena argued, leading them towards the tables where barrels of the fermented beverage waited. “I’m sure they’ll let us if you ask.”

  “Wait, what? Why me?” Syl tried to dig in her heels but Dena had too much forward momentum.

  “Because you’re the star of the Ka-Sho-Dan,” Dena explained, and took her place in front of one of the two men handing out cups. “Two please,” she said, and elbowed Syl to speak up.

  The large man eyed the pair and casually reached up to scratch at his dark beard. “Two cups? For who?” he asked them.

  “Uh… for… my parents?” Syl didn’t sound very convincing, and the man’s raised eyebrow told her exactly that.

  “You’re a wonderful dancer,” the man said, “but a terrible liar.”

  “C’mon,” Dena said and started batting her eyelashes at him. To Syl, it just looked like she had something in her eye that she desperately wanted to get out. “Just one cup each?”

  “No can do. You know the rules as well as I do,” the big man said and crossed his arms.

  “Listen, ladies,” the other man in front of the table spoke up. “There’s barely enough for the adults. We’d have a riot on our hands if we started giving it out to you girls too.”

  Syl tried not to bristle at the way the man said, girls. They were only a few months away from her eighteenth birthday!

  “What do you mean there’s barely enough for the adults?” Dena asked, concerned. Her family did the brewing.

  “Oh, it’s Ulkina’s little girl. Looks just like her mom,” the bigger man said to the other. “It’s not like our stocks are low, we just don’t have enough here. Kilik went to get more, but he’s taking a long time.”

  “Oh, phew,” Dena said. “So… since you know more is coming…” Dena suggested with a wink.

  “No,” both men said in unison.

  The scowl Dena gave them made it all the more comical and Syl could only laugh as she tugged her friend back towards the Ka-Sho-Dan.

  “Let’s go watch some more of the dance,” Syl said while Dena sputtered something unintelligible about pie and ahbay.

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