The Quiet of Us
The clearing shimmered with warm lights, some dancing like fireflies, others settling in the low branches of the trees as if the forest itself had joined the celebration. Then came the music—no instruments in sight, just haunting strings and the deep pulse of a drum that seemed to rise from the earth.
It started slow. A hum. A rhythm older than language.
One by one, couples gravitated toward the open space between tables and trees, where the flame still flickered gently. The circle of dancers formed like a spiral, their movements guided more by feeling than form.
“It’s just a dance,” Bryn said, elbowing Nerissa gently. “Unless you’re scared.”
Nerissa narrowed her eyes, but a slow, mischievous smile tugged at her lips. “Scared? Of him?”
Without another word, she tur
