Their presence added a magical quality to the night. Zimp and Oro came from the wagon into the camp area. Festivities had already begun. Stalks of grass had been collected, bound, and placed all around the fire for when they wished to feed the fire into a high blaze. Early spring flowers had been collected and set around the camp. The women wore flowers in their hair. The men had gathered wood and made the fires wide so that they could cook near the edges and let the flames reach up above their heads. Looking at the smiles on the faces, even those with bandages from their wounds, would confuse anyone who knew of their morning travesty. Oro motioned where she wished to sit near the center fire, and Zimp led her there and helped her to sit on a bench that had been brought from someone's wagon. “Oh, the freshness of the air,” Oro said. Zimp had mixed feelings as she stepped over to Brok and his siblings, who had been brought to the center fire to wait for Oro's arrival. Zimp reached for Brok's hand, but he refused to take it.
