Kenden
It had been years since the last passage of Letilum, and Higsen had only vague memories of days of revelries, smiling faces, and colors. Colors adorning every surface of the village, balanced with one of the worst bellyaches he’d ever had from all the candy he’d gorged on. Yet still vivid among these was the slow progress of the snail and houses perched on its shell, as it passed under their own village branch. He had later been told it had slowed down and stopped at the time, though he did not remember this, allowing temporary bridges and daredevil climbers to pass between the two villages.
This time around he was older and had participated actively in the preparation as Letilum came back, after its circuit of the Nations. He had signed up for the hanging of decorations, cheating only a little when Dormut checked if he was tall enough, barely needing to lift his heels. His older cousin Jevun had chosen some of the riskier spots for their team, for which he had been picked, including some overhanging the whole branch and the ground far below.
After two days of intense, thrilling work, this morning had been spent sampling what the bakers and cooks had prepared, darting in and out of open windows and under stalls, followed by halfhearted cries of indignation and promises of outlandish reprisals.
He was now high among the branches of the nearest tree, after a couple of hours of hard climbing with his friends, holding a particularly promising slice of pie he had saved for this moment. The others were eyeing it openly, only half-joking in their calls for sharing. He was about to bite into it when Wirisol let out an excited shriek, “there it is!”. They all leapt up and crowded the leaf he was on, eyes peering through the green, pushing and elbowing for the best lookout spots.
All the way down, past the nests, branches, and fruit, somehow visible amid the camouflaging carpeting of fallen leaves, something huge crept along. Brighter patches of color hinted at roofs, glimpsed then disappearing as the snail patiently slithered towards their hamlet.
They all scurried down the branch, Higsen’s pie slice completely forgotten.