His eyes aglow behind the mask, young Long rushed breathlessly toward the celebration. Since time immemorial, the Fire People had celebrated the Blood Moon Festival with the brightly hued masks of their vanquished foes.
How sad that the Draco are gone, thought Long as he circled the bonfire. Flames leapt skyward as masked revelers danced around it. So alien, yet so noble.
Though little was known about them, Long had spent many a lonely hour in the library, poring over frightening legends and imagining the stories of the planet’s aboriginal inhabitants.
I understand them better than anyone. Fiery. Passionate. Nearby, a lovely woman in a bright orange mask danced, swaying in rhythm to the music of the band.
Long pressed his feathered mask to his face. Uncertainty left him like smoke in the wind. With a confidence wholly alien to the meek young boy, a bold Draco warrior approached the woman and asked her to dance.