Josef couldn't release his gaze from the night sky. It felt like the moons had taken possession of his entire being. The largest was rust red in colour and three times the size of the second, which was the colour of glacier melt. The rest were shaded between yellow and grey, save for one which was royal purple and plastered with meteorite holes. Some of the moons were spaced out, but the vast majority were layered on top of each other. Luscious prismatic waves trembled and flew off from each moon, pooling and twirling with the waves of its neighbours.

The entire effect was hypnotizing. Josef had yet to take his eyes away from the night sky's full display, even as the two machos dragged him through the meadow grass. Its dew was soaking his legs and feet, but he could barely believe what he was seeing.

So this was Moonsneeze, he thought. So this is what Claudius was talking about. It was stupendous. The moons almost seemed to be talking to each other. The prismatic-coloured substance coursing between them flowed as swiftly as life-giving water rushing into a shoreline of tidepools.

He released his eyes from the sight of the ten moons and looked where Kipfish and his entourage were dragging him. They inclined towards a ridge dotted with gnarled and leafless oaks. Boulders and stones littered the meadow as it sloped upwards. Trees, rotted and fallen littered the meadow as well. Josef noticed the path they followed was barely trodden, which indicated that the arising of new goo-drinkers must indeed be a rare occurrence.

Echoing down from the meadow's upper hill came the cawing of crows. Their cries darted and whistled through the night air. Josef couldn't see a single crow, but he knew they were getting closer.

"Do your hear them, goo-drinker?" came Kipfish's voice.

Josef glanced behind and saw Kipfish on his litter. A singular macho carried him. Kipfish's head bobbed with every step the macho took, the flesh on this throat wobbling, his eyes glued on Josef.

"The crows will ratify you tonight, goo-drinker," Kipfish said, his eyes leaving Josef and gazing up to the ridge. "You will become just what we need you to be. I have not yet received word from the upper brass what tasks we'll have you perform, but I'm sure we will hear shortly." Kipfish then motioned for the other brainsnake to come closer. "Gupnit! Come! Go alert the crows. Tell them we bring one for ratification."

The younger brainsnake bowed. His robes were of the same dried blood colour as Kipfish's. His skin was not yet as taunt, but it was progressing in that direction. Josef watched as Gupnit hobbled past the retinue of machos and up towards the top of the ridge.

Curious, Josef managed to turn and catch a glance of what lay behind them. His eyes widened. The Ba'ha Grotto was stunning — not as stunning as the moons, but it nevertheless possessed a sublime magnificence. Tall, red cliffs jutted upwards hundreds of feet into the air, while torches hinted at passageways and waterworks running alongside the cliff face. The entire mass of rock was at least a mile wide and near the edges it crumbled and twisted into strange formations until finally plunging down into the far-spanning ocean.

"Yes," said Kipfish, offering a knowing smile. "Get a good look. You'll be heading back there shortly. We have much to do as you've unfortunately missed the entirety of the first day. I've already ordered my fellow brainsnakes to begin drafting a few remedial lessons for you."

Josef shuddered. He remembered Claudius and Malark's conversation back when he'd first broken free from his goo-sac. They'd spoken of a cloistered and calculated freedom. They'd also exchanged more than a few words about the inordinate insanity of Claudius's endeavour. But Claudius had done it anyways.

Josef practiced calming himself as they began to reach the top of the ridge. The trees were not as they first appeared. He could now see a soft green glow shimmering between the fissures in their bark. Every oak tree in the vicinity seemed to exude an imperceptible energy. It reminded Josef of bright spring moss. It was so faint, however, just barely perceptible.

The crows' cries rose in volume. And as they crested, Josef saw how the ridge surrendered itself and expanded out into a flowing meadow. An ever greater green light grew in the distance, but then Josef heard a noise not commonly heard in a meadow. A smattering of clinks, like a necklace dragged across a grate, or someone shaking a box of nails. It made his skin crawl. He looked about until he located its source.

And then found it: rusted, miniature manacles clasped to the feet of crow after crow. Josef held his breath. Awkwardly they lifted themselves to the air with thrifty pulses of their black wings only to fall back to the ground, collapsing under their manacles' weight. It was pitiful.

Josef listened as the crows inaugurated their arrival with a crescendo of caws and clacks.

"What is this?" asked Josef.

The machos were silent, but Kipfish spoke. "This is The Crow Meadow, goo-drinker." The wind snatched at Josef's hair, the limbs of the oak trees groaned.

"What have you done to them?" asked Josef. He was horror-stricken as he listened to the depleted caws emerging from the crows' beaks. Many of them were missing feathers and most didn't even try to leave the ground. They hobbled instead on the meadow grass, keeping an eye on the entire retinue.

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"The Ba'ha Company has enterprises. Those enterprises must proceed without a hitch. The crows were beginning to make a nuisance of themselves and so we did what was necessary. They cooperate now," Kipfish explained.

Josef suddenly had the sense he was walking through a shrieking crowd towards a hangman's scaffold. His body felt as if it were closing in on itself. Was this what all the felds were like? Did Claudius know the Ba'ha Company had enslaved the crows like this?

"We're getting close," said Kipfish. "Around the bend we will come to the center of The Crow Meadow. Once we arrive you will lay down on the meadow grass in front of the tree. Please resist if you like, many do. The crows will not approach until you are still. Once they've begun their ratification, you cannot move. It took us more than a few goo-drinkers to figure that one out," Kipfish said this and then wheezed out a series of heavy laughs.

"What's the point of all of this?" asked Josef, turning and staring at Kipfish who now bounced along beside him, still resting in his litter carried by the macho.

Kipfish twirled a shrivelled finger in the air. "Power. Control. Knowledge. Money. And more. Things you may come to appreciate goo-drinker, at least for a short period." He then pointed ahead. "Here we are."

Josef looked down the path as they rounded the curve. A massive oak tree towering over the rest of the meadow's trees suddenly swam into view. Unlike the others with their soft green glow, this central oak tree was blasting out strands of green light from the fissures in its bark. It was leafless as well, its bark a dreary stone grey. Tethered to every branch was a crow, manacled this time to the tree's branches.

"What a mighty feld this once was," said Kipfish sweeping his arms out. "When I arrived at the Ba'ha Grotto many septujinnys ago, the crows were a force to be reckoned with. We had to bargain with them. And we did. We bargained them straight into their graves."

Josef felt a wave of sadness crash through him at the sight of the crows hunched in their giant, cracking oak tree. It's light was brilliant, but the crows and the tree itself seemed brittle and subdued.

Josef closed his eyes. He then turned his gaze upwards to watch the moons once again. They were still there, all ten of them, hovering in the night sky with the same prismatic syrup flowing between them like sand scooting just above desert dunes. Just staring at them was a refuge. Josef didn't want to look away.

Gupnit coughed and strode up to Kipfish. He held his open palm against his chest. "The crows are ready for us, Kipfish," he said, breathing heavily. He obviously wasn't used to running.

"Excellent," replied Kipfish. "This Moonsneeze has cooperated with us, despite our goo-drinker's attempted flight."

"Have you given him the first instructions?" Gupnit asked, a hint of fear creeping into his voice.

Kipfish whispered to the macho carrying him. The macho took two steps toward Gupnit. Kipfish's arm extended and gripped Gupnit's pale nose between his bony fingers. "Did I give him his instructions? Is that what you asked, Gupnit?"

Gupnit sputtered, drool dripping from his mouth. "I only—"

Kipfish twisted Gupnit's nose and Josef heard something snap like a twig.

"You only what, Gupnit?"

Gupnit whimpered and began to lower himself to the ground, his hands coming together as he pleaded for Kipfish to release him.

Kipfish waited, then cast Gupnit down to the meadow grass. "You're a lackey, Gupnit. You don't speak unless spoken to. This goo-drinker here is worth more than you and your pitiful family combined. Until you prove yourself to the Ba'ha Company, I'll break your nose every day." Kipfish then gave another sneer and looked back at Josef. "Any last questions goo-drinker? Moonsneeze can be fickle. We shouldn't tarry any longer."

What more was there to say? Josef glanced again at the tree and wished they'd chosen a different feld. Playing the gujai bone chimes suddenly seemed to be a far more appealing option.

After a few seconds pause, Josef asked, "How will I die?" He didn't know why he asked it, but the uncertainty was painful.

Kipfish didn't answer immediately. But he smiled and then laughed, "It's different every time."

Kipfish then waved Josef's machos forward.

The machos were silent and diligent, carrying Josef towards the central tree without a word. The path died out before they reached the towering oak tree, its brilliant green light causing Josef to tilt his head down and into his shoulder. He could hear faint whispers as they approached.

He wasn't expecting the light to have a temperature, but it did. It was unnaturally warm. Josef felt its heat against his face and arms as the machos laid him out on the meadow grass. They placed him right at the base of the oak tree's roots while dew wet the back of his legs and neck.

It wasn't until the machos fully released him that he noticed his body was quivering. It was a soft kind of terror — terror without a discernible object, foreboding and grand.

He heard the machos retreat away, but not before one whispered, "Remember. Be still."

And then Josef was alone. Or at least more alone than he'd been for quite some time. He could only open his eyes a small crack because of the brightness of the tree's light, but he could hear the weak cawing of what sounded like hundreds of crows. He sucked in a deep breath of air and remembered to stay still. He let the air drain from his lungs. He focused himself.

He didn't know what he was waiting for, but he remained as still as possible. A gust of wind flew through the meadow, pushing the tips of the dark green grass against his face. It was almost ticklish, but he didn't dare move.

Slowly the scraping of metal against wood became audible. Josef waited, listened, feeling tension grip his body. He almost flailed and ran when the first set of claws latched onto his shin.

What was happening? Before another question could arrive, more claws landed on him, gripping his skin through his rag clothing. He could feel the tips of their feathers slip against his arms and neck. Don't move, don't move, don't move, Josef repeated to himself. He wanted to jump out of his own skin and fly through the wild oak trees, but he remembered Kipfish's warning about the previous failed attempts, about the goo-drinkers who hadn't stayed still.

He again resolved not to move as more claws gripped his body, their iron manacles clacking against those of their neighbours. At this point Josef had no idea how many crows had landed on him. He'd stopped counting. He doubted there was a square inch of skin not clutched by a crow. Those already perched on him were silent though — all he could hear was the clinking and scraping of their chains. He had the sense he was being inspected.

"Goo-drinker," came a whispering voice. "Sac-born of the 9th conjoining, you seek ratification. You seek our anointment. But inside we will peer, into the mildew and the rot, where your fear makes a home in its self-made dark. We smell your fear, we smell your hesitation, but tonight is Moonsneeze and your brain must talk."

I'm here, Josef thought. I'm here and I'm ready.