Like a birdsong, she thought, a flock of birds singing a hymn.

Smiling pleasantly at the notion, she set off again, keeping to the edge of the stream, which was now almost wide enough to be classed as a river. The contentment growing in her mind was almost narcotic. This time she was going to meet them. It was inevitable.

The sky slowly lightened above her. Tall waving branches on either side of the surging watercourse transformed to black silhouettes against a pale gray pastel. The grand star clusters faded away in deference to the dawn sun. Dew began to coat the grass and small ferns, splashing off on her boots. Araminta couldn’t help the smile on her face, even though she knew any relief here could only be temporary.

The trees gave way abruptly, and she gasped in delighted astonishment at the vista before her. She was high up on the edge of a plateau that swept away into a wondrous primordial landscape. Perfectly clear air allowed her to see for what must have been over a hundred miles. Snowcapped mountains fenced the scene on two sides, and ahead of her the ground undulated away with hillocks and dells adorned in lush woodland. Morning mist eased gently around the slopes, blanketing the deepest hollows and basins like a living liquid. Threads of stream water sparkled and glistened down the sides of the mountains, thousands of tributaries lacing together into broader, darker rivers. Waterfalls tumbled hundreds of meters down rugged cliffs and clefts in the rocky foothills.

“Oh, my,” Araminta murmured in admiration. There she waited patiently for her escort while the big red-hued sun rose up into the empty sky, throwing vast fingers of light through the mountains to sweep across the magnificent landscape.

The madrigal grew louder, swelling to a crescendo. Araminta looked around as the Silfen rode out of the forest all around her. There must have been forty of them, mounted on huge shaggy-furred beasts. She gazed at them, enthralled with the spectacle. Elves right out of the deepest human folklore. As tall as legend had them, with long limbs and a torso that was proportionally shorter than the human version. Flat faces with wide feline eyes above a slight nose had a simple circular mouth without a jaw; instead, three concentric circles of sharp teeth flexed steadily, shredding food as it was pulled back into the gullet.

They wore simple togalike garments that glimmered with a metallic sheen. Gold, jewel-laden belts were pulled tight about the waist, and the shoulder strips were held together with large broaches whose gems glowed an eerie green. On top of the togas were waistcoats made from some kind of bright white mesh.

Their voices broke into a ragged chorus of joyful undulations as they rode around her. The earth trembled with the impact of the beasts’ feet cantering about. One of the Silfen, wearing a scarlet mesh waistcoat, halted his mount beside her and bent down, offering his arm. Without hesitation Araminta reached up.

He was incredibly strong. She was lifted up and over into the big saddle in front of him. One arm stayed protectively around her. She glanced down to see his four-fingered hand resting against her abdomen. He flung his head back and emitted a piercing warble. The beast lurched forward with such abruptness that she laughed at the sheer outrage of it. Then they were thundering onward into the trees ahead.

It was a bizarre and wonderous ride. The size of the beast meant that every movement seemed ponderous, yet it was fast. When her senses calmed down, she noticed that it had a hide of reddish-brown fur that was thick like knotted lamb’s wool. There were six fat legs, which meant every motion of its gait was exaggerated, swaying her back and forth.

The rest of the riding company spread out behind her, still singing among themselves as they rushed forward in what was close to a stampede. They splashed through rivers and charged up slopes without slowing. It was a wild exhilarating ride, and she clung on for the duration, laughing away at the experience.

Eventually they came out of the woods close to a vast loch. Tendrils of mist rose above the calm surface. Small conical islands were mirrored on the silverish shimmer, with skinny trees clinging to their wrinkled mossy sides. A little way around the shoreline, a waterfall gushed in from an overhanging crag. The scene was quiet perfection, making her glad simply to know such a place existed.

But right in front of her, on the sprawling grassy bank, the Silfen camp awaited. There were thousands of the strange aliens, along with a dozen types of exotic riding beasts. Tents of glowing fabric were pitched everywhere. As she watched, one rose up: seven individual sheets of fabric, each one a primary color, growing higher and higher until they were twenty feet above the ground, where they curled over to knot themselves together with a looping bow. The edges of the sheets fused together, and there it hung, suspended on nothing, like a solidified rainbow. Between the tents, fires were burning, and rugs had been spread out in readiness for what looked like the galaxy’s biggest picnic. Silfen unpacked vast silver and gold platters of food from huge baskets slung over various animals. The food looked fabulous, as did the crystal bottles filled with liquid of every possible color. A great many Silfen were already dancing around the fires, voices raised to chant at their own tempo. Their limbs might have been long and spindly to her eyes, but they were certainly agile and most likely double-jointed. Half the energetic moves would have been impossible for a human.

It was a shame, she thought as the Silfen on whose mount she’d ridden proffered his arm again to get her down. She would have liked to join in. As her feet touched the ground, the aliens surged toward her, and she started back. Peals of laughter shivered through the air. Not mocking: sympathetic, encouraging. Welcoming.

Araminta gave them all a nervous bow. They returned the formality en masse, the action spreading out like a ripple. Of course, with their flexibility and grace it was a lot more elegant than hers.

Two of them stepped forward, their circular mouths open in what she thought was a smile, though all they were doing was showing an awful lot of those off-putting spiky teeth. They were female, though it was hard to tell. All the Silfen had thick long hair that was adorned with beads and jewelry. Lengthy braids swirled as the womenfolk held out their arms to her. She allowed herself to be led forward. Their minds shone with warmth and kindness, so much so that it was impossible not to experience the same emotions. Food was offered, intricate crumbling cakes wrapped in verdant leaves. She nibbled away, and the crumbs fizzled as they went down her throat. “Oh, gosh!”

The Silfen laughed at her enjoyment. A crystal bottle was tendered, and she drank deeply. Definitely alcoholic and then some. More food: perfectly sculpted pastries and confectionaries dripping with honeys and juices that tasted as good as they looked.

Somewhere a group was trilling a fast tune. Araminta started to sway to the beat. One of her women hosts took her hand and danced with her. Then she was lost amid dazzlingly colorful alien bodies, all swirling and whizzing about her.

More food, snatched from group after group. Drink. Plenty of that. It was intoxicating but never enough to blur her senses; instead, it intensified the whole wondrous festival. Dance followed dance with dozens of Silfen until she was giddy with joy and every muscle was shaking with exhaustion.

She knew that this was all crazy, that she should be getting to some Commonwealth world to do what she could with her unwelcome heritage. Yet somehow she knew this was also the right thing to be doing. Her body and mind needed the blissful suspension of the festival to recover and calm from the events of the past few days. They were helping her, these Silfen, showing in their own bizarre fashion that she wasn’t alone, reinforcing the communion she had with their precious Motherholme.