AT HALDEN

SAELYNA

Fareedah wraps a shawl around my hair and stands back to admire her work. Her black eyes lit up with admiration. 'You look fabulous', she says, clapping her hands. I pull at the robe and then the shawl. I don't entirely feel comfortable in these. 'Are they really necessary? I mean, it looks a little….too much'. Too restrictive, too celebratory. Fareedah waves a hand. 'You don't know what you're talking about. That's what they wear at the festival, innit?' she says, wrapping a shawl around her own neck. I don't correct her, because that's what they wear. I just go with a shirt and trouser and sometimes, Cyran's coat.

I look around the place as we step outside my hut. 'What?' she whispers. 'Where's Cyran?' I ask. 'Off with the boys, I 'spect. On nights like this, they drink always and sing those damned songs till sunrise'. I prick my ears, straining for the sound of music, but I hear none. 'I'm…I'm worried, I should go check…' F