Azandra POV

On the first night of the Harvest Festival, she stood in the red and yellow halo cast by the ceremonial bonfire lit to honor the Moon Goddess and celebrate the blessings of the harvest. She moved to the beat of Tulaska’s drum and to the music of Patch’s and Dirge’s flutes. The festival grounds, the greenery right outside the city, were packed with shifters.

She’d never felt so nervous about performing this chant. She adjusted the garland woven of ...