Ember huddled close to her friends, tightening her fur jacket in an attempt to stop shivering. With the privilege of watching the beautiful sunset had also come the deepening of the cold, which tightened around her heart like a vice. Beneath the jacket, she wore the shimmering gold jumpsuit-dress. It hugged her comfortably, its golden flecks catching the light of the flickering torches.

“Come here,” Morgan said, tugging her behind Sebastian to offer some protection from the wind. The couple had joined Jisu, Carn, Charlie, Naz, and Ember for the ball that marked the final night of the festival.

“It won’t be long now,” Naz said, her eyes sparkling behind her mask. Ember could feel that she was right—the atmosphere in the air was charged with anticipation. Most of the Mendelians had spent the day preparing their ensembles for the ball, which was hosted on the actual day of the solstice, the first official night of winter.

“Let’s go up,” Jisu urged. When the group agreed, she hiked up her hem, starting up the pathway into the trees. She was dressed especially sharply in a tight black dress with a slit that showed her upper thigh. Ember followed slowly behind, encumbered by her heavy jacket and lamenting the fact that, unlike the cat and the fox, she had not grown a thick fur coat for the season.

As she climbed, Ember looked down upon the crowd. It seemed that almost all of Mendel—save the very young and old—had gathered on Main Street. Mendelians were dispersed on every available surface, balanced on even the most precarious of perches. Only the main trail had been left unoccupied, allowing still more to arrive from afar.

Since the ball was considered a momentous occasion, the citizens had assembled their outfits as if writing a love letter to Mendel. Each person wore an elaborate mask, some encrusted with gems, scales, or feathers. The clothes themselves were a labor of many weeks, fashioned from dyed silks or wool. They were complimented by the jewelry: beetles’ wings dangled from ears, pieces of silver wrapped around wrists, and dew-drop-shaped gems lined necks.

Ember lagged further behind, stopping to admire the most dazzling displays. One Linnaean whose source species was a deer had painted his antlers gold, while his partner wore a cloak made only of fallen leaves. Though not all of the Linnaeans’ mutations were inherently appealing, combined with their unique manner of expression the overall effect was that of living, breathing art.

“Come on!” Jisu called, and Ember stopped her people-watching in order to catch up with her friends. The group had gathered atop a large burl, which formed a natural platform about forty feet from the ground.

Without as many bodies blocking the wind, Ember quickly succumbed to shivering, and Morgan threw her cloak over them both. Naz launched into a lecture about dressing more appropriately, and Ember was saved only when Jisu revealed that she had filled her sizable flask with berry wine. It was passed around eagerly as they waited, determined to let the steaming liquid warm their bellies before it, too, surrendered to the cold.

After a few droughts, a pleasant haze dulled the edges of the harsh weather. Ember turned her face upward, looking through the canopy. A cloud drifted north, revealing the stars, pinpricks of light whose brightness was startling against the velvety blackness.

“Look,” Charlie said softly, pointing below.

Ember returned from her stupor, combing through the crowd. “What do you see?”

“There,” Naz whispered, guiding her hand. Ember looked down to see a Linnaean materialize on the branch below them, poised in a crouch that was more animal than human. “The recluses are coming.”

One by one, they appeared to Ember like phantoms—creatures that took shape amongst the crowd, sometimes upright and other times on four legs. Unlike the others, they wore no masks, displaying faces that were entirely animalistic. She had heard about them not long after her arrival in Mendel: they were Linnaeans who had chosen to live as animals rather than as humans, now making a rare emergence from their homes outside the city walls. Each one was shadowed by a less developed Linnaean, presumably in case they were to succumb to instinct.

All at once, the sound of drumming came from the ground below. It traveled through the trees, shaking freezing droplets of dew onto the onlookers. The crowd grew silent, looking toward the entrance to Main Street. Two shapes were making their way down the path in the distance, lit only by the stars and the torchlight.

As they drew closer, Ember realized that they were two Linnaean males, riding side-by-side on imposing mounts. On the right was Corax, perched atop a tall elk and wearing a long black cloak that fell below his ankles. Next to him, a larger, mustached Linnaean rode a bear the color of snow.

“Who is that?” Ember breathed.

“Mayor Richardson,” Naz replied. “He’s technically the city’s head, though everyone knows it’s Corax who has the power.”

Ember nodded, recognizing the name. Before she could say anything further, however, a sound rose over the drums, a haunting melody that oscillated as gently as the breeze. She glanced around, but the sound seemed to come from everywhere at once, and she gave up trying to pin it down amid the crowd and the dark.

The two leaders stopped and turned at the end of the trail, sitting perfectly still atop their mounts. At the same time, the music was joined by a chorus of voices that wove a mournful song in a language unknown to Ember. All along the path, masked Linnaeans emerged from the crowd. Some wore strange costumes fashioned entirely from feathers, fur, or scales, while others were clothed in fabrics made from flowers or leaves.

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Even in their strides, the Linnaeans were one with the music. They moved fluidly, their movements seemingly random at first. But as the song grew darker, a scene began to play out. They assumed a series of contorted poses, their fingers grasping at the sky in anguish.

Ember leaned forward, an ache blossoming in her chest. The scene was confusing in its novelty but equally captivating.

Slowly, the beat of the music changed, and the drums sounded at a frantic cadence. The performers hunched their shoulders, their heads bowed as they fled. They took refuge in small groups, their backs together as they attempted to ward away their invisible attackers. The scene reminded Ember so vividly of her kidnapping that it suddenly seemed less a performance and more a memory.

The dancer’s mutations made the production even more immersive. They could spring higher, spin faster, or otherwise surpass the physicality of normal humans, and they used their abilities to tell a story of desperation. Some fell to the unseen enemies and lay still on the trail while their companions carried on.

Mercifully, the grating song gave way to a calm, lovely tune, and the performers’ bodies slumped with relief. Ember recognized the chorus from the first day of the festival, and suddenly she understood—they’re acting out the persecution of the Linnaeans and the founding of Mendel.

The production continued, illustrating the periods of development that the city had undergone in the last one hundred years. The performers took on the role of medics, engineers, and scientists, writing formulas on invisible blackboards and healing imaginary wounds. Their movements were light and airy, narrating a story of discovery and acceptance. Whether from the song, the dance, the chill, or the wine, Ember found herself slipping into a hypnotic state.

The curious, lighthearted music gradually became more boisterous when the timeline reached the present, the city’s golden age. As the music hit the peak of its crescendo, a sound like the ringing of a bell played three times. It roused the mayor on his mount, and he raised his arm and gestured animately.

“It begins,” Carn murmured.

Ember stirred, re-orientating herself. In Ciradyl, she had found such presentations insipid, but this had affected her in a way she did not yet understand. The onlookers responded alike, many crossing their right fists over their hearts in a salute to Mendel, sinking to their knees, or shedding quiet tears. Ember realized that for them, the performance was a cathartic, transcendental tribute to the sacrifices of their ancestors.

After a moment, an elegant, rich song began to play. Taking the cue, the Mendelians stepped onto the trail, merging with the performers. As they grasped each other’s hands, their exquisite ensembles coalesced into a mosaic of brilliant hues.

Naz and Jisu stood close to Ember’s side as they watched the scene transform, passing the flask wordlessly between them. Carn gave a small wave as he tugged Charlie down the path, disappearing into the crowd below. Without moving from the platform, Morgan placed her hands on Sebastian's shoulders, swaying slowly to the beat. Everywhere, Linnaeans were dancing: in the street itself, atop the highest branches, beneath the gargantuan roots, and behind curtains of vines.

“This way,” Naz said, grabbing Ember and Jisu’s hands and guiding them down the path despite their protests. “It’s easy to get lost!”

On the ground beneath the trees, they were enveloped by Linnaeans. Though the dancers were dignified, their sheer number made it difficult not to be swept away. They wove between each other, some with partners and others alone, impossible to distinguish behind the costumes and masks.

At first, nervousness held Ember in place with her back against the trunk of a redwood. Naz coaxed her forward, showing her how despite the close proximity, the dancers respected each other’s personal space.

Together, the three women formed their own little bubble in the ocean of Linnaeans. Ember loosened up, moving gently to the music. Slowly, she activated her infrared vision, allowing her awareness to broaden past her friends. At first, the input was too much, and she scrunched her eyes shut to focus. There was something simultaneously unsettling and bewitching about being surrounded by thousands of bodies, their individual heat signatures forming a brightly-colored mass that pulsed with life, like a single, giant organism.

Once Ember had surveyed the area, she turned her attention to the music. The song, led by violins, was rich and regal. It drew her closer, persuading her to let the wine reach her head.

From that moment, she was lost to the celebration as one might be pulled underwater. She was passed between her two friends, roped into one dance after another. Her laugh, made louder by the wine, at times felt as though it was drifting outside her body. The other Linnaeans swirled around her, forming a mesmerizing, impenetrable wall, and clouds passed overhead, shedding a flurry of snowflakes that kissed the dancers’ skin.

As the night deepened, Naz slipped away, expressing her intent to find a partner with which to spend the remainder of the night. Ember was left with Jisu, who stayed by her side even when the crowd shifted. Though the two preferred to dance together, they split up occasionally for a quick waltz with a spotted acquaintance. Once, Naz spun past in the arms of a young and muscular Linnaean male, winking through the mask at Ember.

Later, when the moon moved from behind a cloud, Ember caught a glimpse of Linnaean musicians perched high in the tree canopy, their silhouettes framed by the far-away light as they raised their instruments to begin another song. Below them, Mendelians moved like spirits in the flickering torchlight, dancing across branches as easily as if they were floating in midair. Time became distorted, intermittently sprinting and crawling according to its unknowable will.

“Hey!” someone said, grabbing Ember’s shoulder and yanking her, unceremoniously, from her dance with Jisu.

The panther shook herself like a wet cat, her ears flattening against her skull. “What’s going on?”

Ember looked down to see Naz, whose mask was askew, revealing a face that was flushed with exertion. “Naz? Where’s that fellow you were dancing with?”

“Never mind that,” the pisces said breathlessly, “I overheard that there’s going to be a delivery tonight!”

“A delivery?”

“A Linnaean is coming from the mainland! If we go now, we can make it!”