Dindi
Kavio spoke in the same quiet, polite voice he used with everyone else. "You will be stationed at the river. Refill the empty water skins for the camp."
"Yes, Zavaedi," Dindi replied.
He didn't say anything more. So she walked to a nearby creek that flowed into the river and filled the skins. It didn't take long. After that, she had no more tasks.
Usually, she would have played with the pixies or nixies who came to tease and dance. But not today. She sat alone, her heart pounding. She waited.
The tall rushes rustled. Kavio stepped through them, appearing on the far side of the creek. She saw that he had already caught two birds and a rabbit, which he had tied on a cord over his shoulder.
He held out his hand. "Follow me."
She stepped carefully across the creek rocks and took his hand. His fingers curled around hers. A strange, warm tingling passed through her hand.
He led her up the mountain slope, into a forest where the trees grew thick and close together. At one point, the path seemed to end in a wall of fir trees and thorny bushes. Dindi thought it a strange place to practice dance.
But then Kavio showed her how to move through the tight spaces. Inside the wall of trees, hidden from any wanderers, was a quiet meadow. The ground had been trampled by animals or people long ago, and golden blossoms bloomed among the grass.
"Look," Kavio said.
His face lit with joy. Dindi wanted to keep looking at him instead, but she turned to follow his gaze.
A flock of butterflies shimmered across the meadow—hundreds of them, bronze and black, dancing from flower to flower.
"They pass through here every year," he said.
Tiny orange fae rode on the butterflies' backs—tiny boys and girls, laughing and pointing. They saw Kavio and fluttered toward him. The fae shouted, "Kavio has brought Dindi to dance!"
Kavio didn't answer them. He only blinked once and brushed the butterflies away with his hand, as if they were no more than petals.
Dindi followed his lead and ignored them too.
"I hope you didn't think I forgot my promise," Kavio said, smiling at her.
Her breath caught.
He cleared his throat. "We begin with the basics. First, we set up the practice area. We use four or six sticks to form a square or rectangle. Never a circle. That shape belongs to fae magic."
"But the dancing floor in the Stone Hedge is a circle," Dindi said.
"Exactly. The fae and humans built the Stone Hedge together, long ago, before the war with the Aelfae."
"Then humans can use circle formations sometimes."
Kavio raised his eyebrows. "Are you going to argue with everything I say?"
"I wasn't arguing."
He gave her a look. She grinned.
With a flint axe, he chopped six strong branches. He carried three. She carried three. Together, they drove them into the ground to form a rectangle.
"A true practice would have a cloth wall," Kavio said. "It hides what we do from those not trained. We don't have one, but the rectangle also keeps out the fae. Mostly."
He waved away another butterfly.
"Next," he said, "unless we are doing aura work, we always sprinkle salt. It stops magic from working while we practice.
"For you, it might not matter. You say you have no magic. But don't grow careless. Even people with no real magic have a little inside them. If you move through a magic dance the right way, you might still cause something unexpected.
"For me, it's more dangerous. If I dance without salt, even a short move could turn into a broken spell with strange effects."
That made sense to her.
He showed her how to scatter the salt—a small handful spread over the ground.
"But," he added, "I won't use salt today."
Dindi looked up in surprise.
"You said you wanted to learn the dances of all the Chromas. So today, I will show you all of them."
"All six?"
"Yes. I want you to watch carefully. Then tell me—if any of the dances makes you feel something strong. Something deep."
"What do you mean by 'strong'?" she asked.
Kavio crossed his arms. "That's what I want you to tell me."
Dindi didn't quite understand, but she nodded anyway. She was ready.