Flin stepped closer to the fire. For years after his father had been killed at a previous festival, he had kept to himself in the forest. The young man was an accomplished tracker now, always called upon when a child was lost, or some lord wished a boar hunt. He wasn't too fond of the wealthy noblemen, and the new mayor really irked him. Nobody liked the pompous fool, with his airs of superiority, and the incessant complaining. Speaking of the mayor, Flin spotted his extravagant robes through the crowd, and ducked back towards the temple. The old priest was there, but Flin had no wish to discuss matters of religion right now. He was still a little angry at the gods for taking away his father, and his mother before that. The rational side of him knew that it couldn't have been their fault, but he still felt he deserved to be angry.

The smell of mead made his stomach turn, and scenes from his first festival flashed through his mind. He quickly dismissed the images, not wanting to relive the agony, and smiled at a young pair running past. "Don't get lost now!" he called to the boy and lass. "Today's my day off!"