Zane caught a glimpse of Makzin sitting at a table nearby with his parents, and he walked over, nodding in greeting. �Hey.�
Gideon was sitting next to Makzin, his heavy bone-bladed scythe leaning, sheathed, against the column next to him. Farther down the table, retired Knights and Rangers of Mrs. Taylor�s generation sat, talking and reminiscing. Tirrell, Makzin�s cavio friend, was curled up in Makzin�s lap enjoying a petting. Timber was nowhere to be seen.
Makzin eyed his friend, shaking his head with a smile. �Hey� almost didn�t recognize you��
Zane looked down at his attire, laughing. The polished chainmail of his arms and legs reflected the colorful filtered light of the feast hall, and a crisp, clean tabard covered his chest bearing the red and black colors of the Laurel Guide Hall. A polished, intricately tooled belt wrapped his waist with a dragon knotwork motif, his long knife strapped to his left side. His usual, lightly-scuffed leather-paneled gorget had been replaced with one decorated with black and red enamels and set with the lapels of his rank, and a new cape was affixed to the collar, running down his back with the full banner-design of the Guide Hall.
Makzin was wearing a similar tabard, but still wore their usual grey-green forest cloak. To wear colors so bright as the Guide Hall�s colors when out in the wilderness tended to counter any attempts at adequately performing a ranger�s duties, but here at feast in their hometown, the brighter ceremonial garb was called for.
Makzin waved for Zane to have a seat, his eyes returning to the crowd. �You seen Lena?�
Zane only nodded, looking down into the knotwork engravings set into the dark wood of the table, distantly running a finger along one line.
�She said she�d be here anyway�� Makzin said, looking back to his friend.
�Wouldn�t blame her if she didn�t come, though�� Zane replied, nodding. He looked over to Makzin�s parents with a half-smile; they were listening and nodding gravely.
Mr. Taylor looked tired and haggard, near to exhaustion. He wore the insignia of a Laurel Jr. Ranger, a rank he had gained as a youth; he was quiet in his exhaustion, leaning on the table with his head propped in his hands. Zane remembered the reason why Calley had had to tag along that morning�the Taylors� travel to Sylazurr had taken its toll on the old Jr. Ranger, and Zane marvelled at the man�s willpower to even be sitting up, let alone to be out in this crowd for his daughter�s feast. The distance he had travelled that day was more than triple the distance that they had flown dragon-back to Talston, and all for a babyshower.
Mrs. Taylor, however, was alert and sympathetic, nodding as she slowly rubbed her husband�s back. She wore a flowing dress belted with a white underdress; it bore the colors of the Guide Hall, as well as the Guide�s crest. �Lena�s a strong girl�� she said, �And Almach�s a strong maow. He will heal, and the bond between them will only grow stronger.�
Zane nodded in agreement to his predecessor, and Mrs. Taylor smiled softly.
The band wound its song to a strong, final thrum, and the dancers spun their dance to completion, bowing inwards on their circle and laughing. The young were grinning from ear to ear as the outer circles appeared to bow in to them, and then the lines broke into applause and laughter. Instead of striking up another song, however, the band put its instruments down, and taking cue, the dancers moved to find their seats.
Calley appeared from the crowd, plopping down with Timber, Nips, and Calla at the table by her parents. Timber was trotting, his heart racing from the dance; he touched a friendly nose to Tirrell and then lay down, belly-up, at Makzin�s feet. Makzin smiled a bit and leaned down to ruffle the white fur of his belly.
Calley was bouncing on the bench next to her mother. �Did you see me? I think I got most of the steps right! I was teaching a little girl, too, she went over to the table back over there��
Her mother quieted her with a gentle hush, directing Calley�s attention to the stage. Calley�s eyes widened.
A woman stood before the band now, her hands clasped at the small of her back. She was garbed in a flowing dress similar to Mrs. Taylors� own, though it lacked the Guide crests and was colored mostly in sandy tones and dark green, though her light cape brooched at her shoulders bore the Guide Hall�s banner. Her blond hair was draped into a long, elaborate loop, pinned with carved wooden sticks. A woodcat was at her side, its shoulder standing taller than her knee; it gracefully sat down and began to wash its paw nonchalantly.
She needed no introduction, for all in town knew her: she was Katt Evanfyrr, the blond sylvan who looked but half her age, a retired Laurel Knight and the grandmother of one of the girls in Calley�s class. She was a well-respected figure in the town, entrusted with the leadership, welfare, and schooling of the young Jr. Rangers and Squires alike. Katt smiled out at the audience graciously, her delicate features glowing in the late afternoon light.
�I would like to thank you all for being here this evening,� she started, her voice soft and musical, �For supporting this grand feast. For tonight is a special night: it is the eve of my class� final test. Tomorrow morning, this years� Jr. Ranger class embarks on their quest to complete their course and prove themselves to the Hall and our town that they can claim the title of Jr. Ranger, protector of the trails and roads of our land.�
There was applause, and she waited for the room to quiet itself again. �The test is a final examination� it is the culmination of all that I, along with many other teachers in this Hall, have worked to teach these children. It will be a test of knowledge and survival skills, of endurance and stamina, of willpower and confidence, and most importantly, a test of knowing their own limits. None but the foolish walk alone in this world, and rangers are no exception.
�We all require the help of friends, companions, to overcome obstacles. The most important survival skill of all is knowing your own limits, and knowing how they can be compensated for by your companions. Over the course of this past spring, you worked with many different young maow who are eager to join you in your work as Jr. Rangers�they have already had experience with older Rangers and maow out in the wildlands, and are eager to now become Jr. Rangers themselves. They are your guardians, and can protect you, should you meet with danger on your road. These guardians, and your wisdom and skills together, are what make a Jr. Ranger what he is� and now, the final pairings have been made, judging on your past bonds of teamwork and friendship.
�I would like to now call up my Jr. Ranger class, if you would come gather here with me please�?� she smiled, beckoning to Calley and others.
(Whee, need more pics!!)
