The crowd was cheering and clapping. In the performance circle a man had blown accelerant into a lighter, brightening the faces of onlookers with a funnel of fire.
The fire illuminated the totems, revealing two chorus larks circling and chirping an upbeat tune. The shape of the totems would sometimes attract the larks. It was seen as a good omen if they came, so the crowd jeered and pointed at them. But the larks would rarely stay for long. They landed on the totem for a brief moment and then twittered away into the night.
Flora didn’t clap or cheer. Instead, she tried to combat her growing feeling of malaise. It wasn’t just Finch’s news. It was the fire-breathing spectacle enjoyed by everyone. It was the man enjoying a boisterous laugh by the kegs, and it was the irreverence of these people to her miserable life. All of these things seemed to conspire against her all at once, disarming her, weakening her. She cringed and had to look away, trying to mask her eyes.
“Are you all right, Flora?” Finch asked. He reached out to her, touching her arm.
She’d hoped her moment had been ignored, but of course not with Finch. He would know when she was happy or when she was sad. He would see her bruises, no matter how much she covered them up.
She pulled away from his hand, spilling some of Reed’s drink on the ground and leaving Finch standing there. She marched back around the semicircle toward Reed.
She was in no state to rejoin him—or anyone else for that matter—so she took a detour out to the edge of the tables. To the casual onlooker she was just stepping out to stare at the constellations. There, in relative obscurity, when she was sure no one was watching, she used her shirt on her eyes, to ensure there was no moisture in them. She gritted her teeth and forcefully expunged her emotions. Only when her eyes had dried, and when she was confident she could produce a convincing smile, did she return to her seat.
Reed frowned at the half-full glass she provided him, but was too engrossed in his conversation with Splitstone to care.
Flora sat quietly, watching the dancers and jugglers in front of them. The evening continued, and her emotions were replaced with stark numbness. She concentrated on staring forward, ignoring Reed, and she never dared to look across to where Finch was sitting.
When the performances ended, a large bell was rung, and the crowds hushed. Curator Luna walked to the center of the semicircle. She smiled and waved at people she knew. In return, the audience clapped and serenaded her with alcohol-fueled cheers.
“People of Grand Caverns, Chief Darkwind and I are excited to welcome you all to this much-deserved celebration. I hope you accept the earth’s adulation on this Day of the Deer. For me in particular, as my first Day of the Deer in Grand Caverns, I know I will cherish this memorable evening.”
A number of Curator Luna’s disciples were gathering around to listen. Many hadn’t even been at the celebration. It seemed they were always toiling away at building this or working on that in the caverns, day and night, holiday or workday.
Luna continued. “I do have a serious matter to address with you all. One for which it is important you are all paying attention.” She paused in her oratory, each second lending gravity to what she was about to say.
“We believe in what is essential. We respect the animals, we cherish the trees and we welcome the bounty of our harvests. We’ve done well to avoid the trappings of the Old World, and now across the expanse of the continent our numbers have grown… into the millions.”
There were cheers and some intermittent clapping. Luna smiled and held up her hand, commanding silence. “Unlike our eastern neighbors, we can be confident in our clean hands and clean hearts. We can be confident we do not sully ourselves and desecrate sun, soil and seed on a road that will lead to oblivion.
“But we have a duty to the deer, to the green earth, to ourselves, to not only survive, but to thrive, and this duty is one I do not believe we have fulfilled. We are to be nature’s true advocate, and as such, we must recompense the earth for the security it has provided us. The fertile ground we live on has given us bounty, and so we must help the earth reclaim the lands it has lost.”
People were nodding their heads, but Flora could see Chief Darkwind wasn’t. There was a frown on his temple, visible even from across the dimly lit semicircle.
Meanwhile, more disciples were joining the ranks. They hovered behind Luna, behind everyone, forming a broad circle around the periphery.
“You see, a deer will eat the flowers off a cherry blossom. This deer may succumb to disease, and then maybe a wolf will cull this weak deer from the herd. But maybe this wolf isn’t the strongest, nor the fiercest. Maybe the alpha of his pack will dispatch him and then a pack of jackals will come to feed on his carcass. Only the strongest, most aggressive jackal will jockey for the choicest wolf meat, and as a result get stronger, be dominant, have the most offspring, while others will get scraps and remain weak.
“This is nature. We are nature. We are the cherry blossom, we are the deer, we are the wolf, and we are the jackal. Nature will have its way with us, but first it is our right, it is our obligation, to take what we can to survive, to not stand passively by while others take what we need. Nature needs competition. That way, the strongest can survive, and the strongest can thrive. It is the way of all animals, including the deer which we celebrate today.”
She paused to let her message sink in, and then continued with emphasis, “That is why, as the true advocates of this earth, it is our duty to no longer lie in waiting to be pushed aside by false advocates. It is not natural for the Spokes to despoil the lands with their railroad tracks and cast rubbish into the air we breathe, and yet it is natural to fight, and it is natural for the strongest to survive.”
Darkwind stood up from his seat, his bald head and clean-shaven face a ball of red rage in the distance. “Enough of this,” he objected. “It’s the Day of the Deer, a peaceful celebration. Please Luna, let us enjoy—”
No sooner had Darkwind stood up than disciples had flooded into the inner circle. Several of them grappled and subdued him. Darkwind’s deputies were similarly captured and bound by disciples brandishing daggers.
A few brave souls in the crowd stood up from their chairs to resist but then slowly sat back down as the odds became clear. Luna’s disciples were everywhere, and heavily armed.
Luna smiled, “Unfortunately, Darkwind, you are the weak deer that needs to be culled from the herd. Or perhaps you’re the wolf, once proud, but now old and weak, detrimental to the pack. Or maybe the jackal that isn’t able to get to the wolf carcass. Or… perhaps you’re just a cherry blossom.” She laughed. No one joined her.
She wrung her hands together happily. “It matters not. Either way, this is the proper order of things. Nature has spoken, and for the pack to survive, for the true advocates of nature to thrive, you must be returned to the soil.”
Darkwind was wrestling violently against his captors. Luna nodded to the disciples holding him and one of them drew a dagger. Darkwind summoned a burst of strength and threw the two disciples off of him. He managed to wrestle the dagger from the armed disciple and stabbed it in his eye. The disciple screamed in agony. Darkwind extracted the knife and turned to rush forward, toward Luna.
For a moment Flora thought Darkwind might actually reach her. But he’d only taken a few steps when a Shinogi came out of nowhere to kick in his left knee, dropping him. Another disciple followed behind and stabbed him squarely in the back. Darkwind threw this one off and rose again, but the Shinogi jabbed him in his side with a small blade, making him lean over. Finally, two disciples fell on top of him to hold him down, and another slit his throat. Crimson blood spewed forth from Darkwind’s neck as he gasped wordlessly.