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impossible to keep them near their families' camp, so each adult would kept a watchful eye on any children within the vicinity.
    Everyone looked forward to the festival, pausing to enjoy life while spending time with family and friends from the other villages and outlying farms and homesteads.
    Brok tapped out his pipe and returned it to his robe's inner pocket. He stood, placed his hands at the small of his back and stretched. Smiling, he realized this simple task had become another luxury he had really come to enjoy since arriving.
    Brok stumbled into the house, cracking his toe on the door jam.
    “ Incendia” He uttered, silently cursing the pain in his foot from lack of foresight.
    A small, pink, spherical ball of light appeared and hovered above his outstretched hand. He proceeded to limp toward his bedroom. A slight flick the ball of light winked out. He shrugged out of his robes, his wrinkled skin pebbling with goose pimples from the cool night air. He crawled under his blankets and as his body warmed, he drifted off to sleep.

    * * *

    The first day of Midsummer Festival began cool and bright, but quickly warmed as the sun rose above the horizon. Some folks had arrived from Willow Haven and Oak Brook the day before, and Brok watched them emerge from their tents, with faces full of excitement.
    Brok walked down the winding dirt path from his house to the main road that led through Heart Stone. He approached the Town Center and his stomach gave a rumble as he caught a teasing whiff of the food baking in the ovens located at the edge of Town Center. Many of the goodwives had already begun creating their culinarymasterpieces. Brok continued walking toward the north side of the green and made his way down the stone-paved path to the Meadows Inn.
    I hope Mistress Meadows has breakfast ready.
    Brok entered the inn and made his way over toward the west wall where the hearth was located. He took a seat in a well-cushioned chair and lazily stretched his long, bony legs.
    “Good morning to you Master Brok,” said Lily Meadows, mistress of the inn. “Care for some breakfast? I just made eggs and bacon, and in about two shakes I will have hot bread from the ovens.” She stood with her hand on her ample hip, awaiting Master Brok's answer.
    “That sounds delicious, Mistress Meadows.” She bustled off to the kitchens and came back with a plate piled high with food. Though the fare on this planet was quite different than what he had eaten back home on Gentra, he had soon gained an appreciation for things like eggs, crisp bacon, and piping hot bread.
    “I hear Jon's entering the storytelling contest this year,” Mistress Meadows said as she took a seat next to Brok.
    “That he is, though I don't know what he plans on telling. Wouldn't even tell his fellow classmates,” said Brok as he took a huge bite of steaming eggs.
    “Whatever he chooses, he is sure to win. No one can spin a yarn like that lad.” She shook her head fondly as she stood. “Although he won't be winning anything if he doesn't arrive soon.”
    “I'm sure he'll be along. None of the students would dream of missing Midsummer Festival,” Brok said.
    “Speaking of late, shouldn't you be heading for the lake?”
    Brok nodded, shoveling food into his mouth even as he stood and walked toward the front door of the inn.

    * * *

    Gwen Heath walked in the middle of her fellow classmates as they made their way to the Village Green. She tried her best to walk normally, but her stunted legs refused to cooperate.
    She glanced to right and felt a small stab of jealousy as she gazed up at Saemus and Kaelin. Everything she wasn't, these two were. She swallowed hard against the lump forming in her throat.
    Gwen glanced to her left and looked away as she caught Jon's dazzling blue eyes. She had been totally, completely, and hopelessly in love with Jon Stone for as long as she could remember. She longed to run her fingers through his sandy blonde hair, to gaze into those