Dindi
Dindi was happy that the fertility tama would be taught outside, by the river. It was much easier to hide in the trees and bushes than to sneak around in the kiva storeroom.
Winter in Golden Bear did not bring snow. Just a few rainy days and a colder kind of sunshine. Today was cold but dry. Light sparkled like frost through the tall sequoias that stood over the hills near the river.
After she warmed up with a few stretches, she didn't mind the chill. Her dance clothes were simple—a breast band and legwals—but she felt fine.
The hard part was not the cold. It was not having a partner.
The woman's role in the dance required her to practice being lifted and spun by a male partner. That was hard to do alone.
Down below, in the Tavaedi dance area, Zavaedi Brena and her slave-husband were showing the class how the dance worked. It looked… intense.
Dindi blushed so red she felt like a garden full of carrots.
When she finally stopped giggling, she looked around and spotted the trunk of an old dead fir tree. It stood about as tall as a man. Two thick branches stuck out like arms.
"Well, I guess you're going to be my partner, Tavaedi Tree Stump," she told it.
Luckily, the female dancer started the dance first. The male just had to stand behind her with his arms raised. The tree stump was good at that.
She crouched down, head low, knees bent at right angles, toes pointed, hands between her legs.
Down in the real dance circle, the drums began to beat.
She pressed her hands into the ground, lifted her body into a center split, then spun her legs in a wheel shape around her hands. She ended with one leg stretched up, resting on the branch of her tree-stump partner.
She spun around the stump—he was supposed to spin her, but she did it herself—and leaned back against his other "arm."
Then she skipped away with small steps, her hips swaying side to side.
The male was supposed to follow in a jaguar crawl, then leap. Tavaedi Tree Stump wasn't great at that part.
"Your dancing is a little wooden," she said, clicking her tongue. "Try to loosen up."
A breeze rustled through his dry branches.
"There you go," she giggled.
She turned and launched into a flip. With a handless cartwheel, she landed in a handstand on his "shoulders."
Now the male partner was supposed to grab her arms and spin her through the air.
Of course, the tree couldn't—
But someone else could.
Strong arms reached up and caught her.
They slid under her belly, lifted her, and spun her over his head.
She couldn't see his face yet. But she felt the way he held her. Strong, but careful. He held her like she weighed nothing.
A Brundorfae lord!
But how strange—fae never danced with her during Tavaedi practice. They got bored too fast. They didn't like repeating the same steps over and over.
And she had never seen a fae like this one before. He shone with gold and so many other colors. A thousand bright, sparkling lights danced over his skin.
Thrum, thrum, thumpa-thrum, beat the drums.
She dropped into a cartwheel and landed with her back to him. He pulled her around, slid her under his legs, lifted her again.
They leapt together into fast footwork. Thrum, thrum, thumpa-thrum. Quick steps. Twirls. Spins. Kicks. Jumps.
The dance became a whirl of movement—close, hot, wild. Too much to think. She only felt.
Thrum, thrum, thrum, thumpa-thrum…
He bent her back over his knee, then pulled her up again—this time, face to face.
So close. Almost lip to lip.
She gasped.
Her partner was not a fae lord!.