Hopeful assumptions having proved less than adequate compared with the actual feast that had been gathered, Wai was feeling heavy as she made her ponderous way down the tree. It was not rare to have a feast; they were the standard of celebration. Everyone felt better with a full belly. The size, however, and sheer amount of variety told her both that this village was doing particularly well for itself, and that Iln was a well-loved member of the community. Whether his family was connected to the organization of food or he was good friends with the hunters, they’d clearly put in extra effort.

And Wai’d reaped the benefits. She was glad he had so much support, pleased to see such strong proof that everyone was happy for him, while she was happy for herself and her lucky arrival. She’d tucked in immediately, along with everyone else, as soon as the last dish bearer had joined the circle. It wasn’t every day she got to eat cultivated mushrooms—a specialty in these parts—or taste the mixture of salty sharpness that was fat grubs and tiny ants popping between her teeth. Every village had their own variety of insects to pick from, though there were several constants: like the pudgy he’im larvae that could be found under almost any bark. Ants, too, were not uncommon, though she’d discovered that even the same species could change its flavor depending on where she found them. Hard-shelled beetles and spiders with soft flesh and unappetizing discouragement expertly taken apart so that she couldn’t find even a hint of the noxious spray or unpleasant barbs to mar the flavor. Then, of course, there’d been the fermented meats, some lizard and orn mixed with their own spices and the sweet sour thickness remained on her tongue even now. 

She’d washed it all down with a heady mouthful of behsa, and its potency was the primary reason for her cautious descent, rather than the weight of a full meal. Though she did have to pause briefly to grit her teeth against an escaping yawn. It wasn’t a dizziness so much as a carefree exhilaration that overwhelmed good sense. Made it far easier to set a foot wrong or grab empty air. No one ever had more than a mouthful if they were planning on moving at all afterwards. The best way to enjoy behsa was setting up a hammock and indulging in a jar between sleeps, but she didn’t have the luxury. So, she’d simply tucked away some of the truffles and hard fruits in her belt pouch to eat later and left after a quick congratulations to Iln once she’d finished eating her fill. 

Chances were good some would still be partaking when she woke up later, whether they were those who’d missed the ceremony, or those simply enjoying an extended break from whatever they’d been doing, Wai never had the energy to keep up that much good cheer. For now, she could only climb slowly to the lower branches twined beneath the floating village hall to where the home nests hung on long, strong vines carefully braided together and constantly tested for wear and tear.  From above, they looked less like fanciful water droplets and more like shadowy blobs, but familiar enough. Her destination was the cluster of three hanging somewhat separate from the rest, reserved for Runners. When she reached them, she plucked the farthest rope first, feeling the vibrations fade and waiting a while before supposing no one was using it. Or they were sleeping very soundly…

Eyeing the distance she’d have to climb down and back up if that was the case, Wai sighed and finally just snuffed out a short breath through her nose. She could always sleep on the floor. And with that encouraging notion to buoy her along, she leaned idly down, catching onto the first loop braided into the long line and then going down hand over hand in a faster descent than her mother would ever have allowed. The wide loops made it easy, the swaying her movement caused, and the open space beneath her made it rather more foolhardy than could be entirely blamed on the behsa, and she landed with a hollow thwump on the rounded roof of the nest. Hanging on with a little smile and tense thrill curling her tail as it bounced and jolted into harsh rocking underneath her feet. Nests weren’t toys, her mother had often admonished, but with no one watching, she hadn’t been able to resist a little fun. 

While she regained her breath and waited for the nest to stop swinging so she could climb inside, Wai stared up at the spirals above her head, they were turning slowly, or, she was, rather, though it felt like it should have been harder to tell. She could see the dark spot of the village hall overhead, set between the branches, its silhouette comfortingly protective and spinning too. That made her snort again. Halls did [i]not[/i] spin. They were very firmly anchored. But the illusion was strangely alluring all the same. Like it was floating on its own. And with the haloing glow of the feastgoers reflecting off the eaves, it did seem oddly surreal. Pretty, but hardly going to help her sleep. She shook her head at herself and slipped, with more usual care, down the side of the nest and through the hanging moss covering the entrance. 

As she’d expected, there was no one else within, so the dark was suddenly more absolute. She was the only light illuminating a simple space. The glow of her skin shadowing the interior in faded blue softness. There was little enough to see, the only personal touch was the weaving method, marking differences between here and there, rather than who was living in it. Only the smooth creak and give of the vines beneath her feet gave it a lived in quality, the hanging hammock clearly well weathered, supporting edges polished by passing hands and bodies so that they reflected the light that little bit more brightly. 

Wai moved more by memory than sight, pulling off her belt pouch to hang it on a double pronged wooden hook, her huewri was left to hang from the other side. And then she tumbled gracelessly into the hammock, humming satisfaction to be off her feet and out of the light, tucked away in the quiet and rocked to sleep. For a while, she stared up at the ceiling, enjoying the absence of defined shapes and solidity of empty space rather than being able to see the thin dome above her. She didn’t even notice when her eyes slipped shut. The view never changed…