The question, asked in a warm, full woman’s voice, filled the darkened room, hushed the rustles of shifting bodies and whispering children. Starsong felt her sister’s hand tighten around hers, and nudged Sundance sharply when claws began to prickle against her skin. She didn’t want to open her presents in the morning with bleeding fingers.
“How much is enough?” repeated their mother, Duskdance, into the deep, soft silence. “How should we know when we may stop seeking out more things, asking for more possessions, piling up more treasures? Which gifts should we most ardently seek to earn, which should we accept only in moderation, and which should we turn away from altogether?”
Light flared in front of Duskdance, as her mate Suncrest, kneeling beside her, struck a match and lit the brazier which stood prepared. The faces of the Free Sky clan of the human strain known as the Aelur sprang out of the darkness, the slit pupils of their eyes narrowing against the glare, their pointed ears tilting forward to catch their queen’s ritual words.
“Let us learn,” Duskdance intoned, helping her husband to his feet, “from the wisdom of the past.” Dropping gracefully to her own knees, she blew gently on the flames, sending them leaping and dancing across the wood. “Let us receive three gifts from the Three Kings of ancient times, and three more from the Six Sisters of our own tradition, and use them in our day to answer the question: