Raquel’s POV

St. Urtha’s was an explosion of white, blue, and butter-yellow tapestries and garlands in celebration of the town’s two-hundredth anniversary. The square which had been mostly empty yesterday was filled with vendors and citizens alike. There were dancing girls and flutists, singles wearing ferns for Gaia’s blessing on finding a suitable mate (the humanized version of a dryad’s betrothal rights), and children roamed manic in the streets (hands ...