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During Revelry Season, there’s only one activity that Avicinda really wants to do.
The distant sun was low over the carnival raging away over the water, but Avicinda had no intention of moving from the sandpit he had claimed for himself. Laying here, half buried in sand, brought back memories of the time before the vines, of sitting with Chigda, away from the noise and revelry. Watching as Chigda gathered the sand and packed it into a ring of stones he’d collected on his own. The sandpits of the party were but one of Chigda’s many legacies that would endure without him.
Just as Avicinda knew he would have to endure without Chigda.
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