For the celebration of the full moon, the druids had all gathered around the fire and offered some tribute to the full moon, or to the Lady. They each took a turn, taking three to five minutes to speak, sing or dance as the mood dictated for them.
The moon was still several spans above the western horizon when Derrick rolled slowly to his feet. As he approached the fire, the people parted for him. He walked past their ranks as if he was alone with the fire and the moon. Doing things that caused Anya to hold her breath to see, Derrick danced around the fire. He bent and swayed like a tree in a high wind. He turned and stepped like a dust devil in the desert, then he was a blade of tall grass, stepping and flexing with a hand leading a hip first to the right and then to the left. Bonelessly, he brought the four winds inside his skin, and inside his skin, the winds whirled. Gravitational forces and seasonal shifts were all there in the placement of his feet or the turn of his head. The entire display took place in silence; Derrick uttered no sound, and wearing no boots, his feet whispered over the grass around the fire. By the time he was done, there was no doubt that the winds screamed fiercely or breezed gently at the whim and spin of the earth and moon. When he was done, he strode back to his place and lay down again, curling up in his cloak as if nothing had happened.
"Can he have done that?" asked Aboleth of Anya in a quiet whisper.
"Ten minutes ago, I would have said no. I hope he didn't undo anything with that," she replied, and then faded back to go and make sure. When she reached him, she found him resting quietly. If she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she would have thought that he hadn't moved. The morning would tell for sure.
The moon was still several spans above the western horizon when Derrick rolled slowly to his feet. As he approached the fire, the people parted for him. He walked past their ranks as if he was alone with the fire and the moon. Doing things that caused Anya to hold her breath to see, Derrick danced around the fire. He bent and swayed like a tree in a high wind. He turned and stepped like a dust devil in the desert, then he was a blade of tall grass, stepping and flexing with a hand leading a hip first to the right and then to the left. Bonelessly, he brought the four winds inside his skin, and inside his skin, the winds whirled. Gravitational forces and seasonal shifts were all there in the placement of his feet or the turn of his head. The entire display took place in silence; Derrick uttered no sound, and wearing no boots, his feet whispered over the grass around the fire. By the time he was done, there was no doubt that the winds screamed fiercely or breezed gently at the whim and spin of the earth and moon. When he was done, he strode back to his place and lay down again, curling up in his cloak as if nothing had happened.
"Can he have done that?" asked Aboleth of Anya in a quiet whisper.
"Ten minutes ago, I would have said no. I hope he didn't undo anything with that," she replied, and then faded back to go and make sure. When she reached him, she found him resting quietly. If she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she would have thought that he hadn't moved. The morning would tell for sure.
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