"Don't move—this is not for you," the drummer barked.
Evie stepped out from behind the fern and shouted, "It is for everyone. Stop hiding behind masks!"
"Get her," someone hissed from the ring of torches.
"She can't be here," the drummer said. "This is a sacred rite."
"Not sacred if you cover your faces to lie," Evie shot back. "Show yourselves. Show who's marrying who."
A hush hit the clearing like a thrown stone. The procession tightened. A line of masked figures shuffled, red silk fluttering against carved wood. A fox-wood statue sat at the center, flowers at its base. No human was supposed to witness a fox wedding. No human was supposed to speak its name.
"Leave," a voice said from the torches. "Girl—leave and be done."
Evie laughed. "I won't run. Not after what you did to my granny."
A low mutter ran the circle. One masked figure moved forward, beating a drum with a slow, accusing tempo.
"She blames us for what happened," the drummer said. "It's superstition. It's grief."
"You think my granny died of grief?" Evie demanded. "She died with bone-ash urns on her shelves. She called them by names you buried and hid."
"Murmurs," someone whispered. "This is dangerous."
"Dangerous for liars," Evie said. "Stand down."
A silk-swathed hand flicked. A silver bell chimed. The inner ring shifted. From the center a figure rose—taller than any human, clothed in red with a
