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Mark flicked her ears back as she scrambled along the edges of the branches that led up and up and up the ancient trees that supported various homes against the trunk of the tree. It was hard going, but she was able to keep up with the two red tails that danced in front of her. The only thing that made it unsteady was the flash of the lights that flared through the branches against the darkening evening. The lanterns were created out of what looked like thing bark that had been tinted so that the appeared in various shades of green. They flashed out of the corner of her eyes as she had to scramble to keep up with Hatcha's long leaping bounds. They went tree to tree, nearly falling down at times, before scrambling up again with a clattering of claws.

She wasn't given a choice on picking her way through carefully, she had to follow the movement of the squirrels in front of her and trust that her body could make it. If they could fit through an opening, so could she. If they could leap past the branches, she could as well. It was a matter of faith in her own body that she just didn't have yet. She was too new in this form and everything of her old life screamed at her that she couldn't do this. It left her stomach torn up in knots by the time the sound of trilling pipes and laughter was heard overhead. The green lights were closer together so that nearly every branch that was thick enough had several dozen to light the area.

"C'mon, we are nearly there, Marrck." Kitch stopped and grinned back at her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "I've never been to this sabon's parties."

"Tcah! You will keep our secrets, pest." Hatch gave the male a playful cuff before she reared up to her haunches to stand tall. "Come along, let us introduce you to your new family."

Family... Mark felt her stomach turn as she came closer to Kitch and peered at the lighted area. _And what of my old family? _

_ _

"A... are those branches?" She blinked as she stared at the lit area with a bit of shock. "Or boards?"

"We won't hurt our homes with boards so high." Kitch gave her a light push before they made their way along the final path. "This makes a better place once we coax them to grow right."

An area of at least fifty foot by fifty foot looked like solid flooring, at least at first glance. It was her second glance that let her see that the flooring was interwoven branches that formed a solid surface. They weren't growing in a normal fashion at all, it looked like someone had made them grow in a pattern like a basket. The sprouts of leaves were there, but they were carefully cultivated and unfurled themselves almost like seats if they were large, if they were small they were carefully coaxed to grow towards the edges. The green lantern light revealed a pattern that made her eyes hurt when she saw the light and dark bark against each other. It was almost lovely, except it was dizzying when she looked at any one place.

The area around the solid mat was taken up by branches that kept the darkness at bay. They spread out towards the sky so that the lights came from all angles. The only thing that kept it from being entirely too bright was the fact they were shaded. The branches that surrounded them moved so the lights moved as well. Squirrels of every size, shape, and color bounded and moved through them in waves. Their eyes reflected the lantern light with bright flashes that glowed the same shade of green as the lights. It was unsettling and reminded her that these people weren't human. They weren't like her. At least, they weren't like what she used to be.

"Come here, Marrck!" Hatcha beamed at her and the big female nearly vibrated with the effort not to laugh at her reaction. "It is a celebration of your birth! We shall have a fine time and I will take it upon myself to teach you how to dance."

"Dance..." Mark felt her stomach roll slightly. "I don't like to dance...."

Kitch gave her a push forward and followed with a grin on his russet features. He seemed to be enjoying himself despite her discomfort. He pushed her forward just enough that Hatcha caught her hand and pulled her forward onto the woven floor with a merry laugh. Somehow, she doubted she was going to get out of this without at least trying to dance.

~ ~ * ~ ~

Mark learned two things that night. One, that she was a better dancer in her current body then she ever had been as a human. And two, the squirrel knew how to celebrate in ways that would have made his college friends envious. The music was produced by a handful of squirrels that had set up on a strangely gnarled branch and used wood flutes as well as roughly made drums that had been seated into the hollowed out branch. It created a resonance that ran along every single part of the tree so that she could feel it in her foot paws as they started to play wildly and she had been drawn into the midst of a cheerful rabble of creatures that seemed curious and eager to meet her. Kitch, as she found out, had positioned himself on a branch above the ruckus and seemed to be watching with a nervous amount of amusement.

She met squirrels, but she couldn't remember half of their names. They introduced themselves with laughter and paws touching the back of her own. Some were old enough that whatever color their fur had been had turned to silver and some were young enough that she had found herself crouching to peer at the youngsters. Hatcha had stood over her like a genial guard with a witty tongue and laughter that forced Mark to join in. Something about the large red female invited her to laugh along with whatever joke happened to go around. Even if that joke was herself. It wasn't malicious, it was enjoyable to feel her features shifting into one that wasn't drawn into a frown or furrowed with worry. It wasn't until after she had met the sabon that Hatcha deemed that it was time to dance.

"I don't dance, Hatcha, I've never danced." She pulled a little on the female's paw that rested against her elbow.

"Ahh, you have never danced like one of us." Hatcha grinned and twitched her tail. "Try it. If it's not to your liking then you can go and watch the pattern from above. Look, Kitch will even join in, even though he isn't of my sabon."

She glanced upwards to see the red shape of her friend crouching low next to a pair of youngsters. She grinned when she realized that a third, far younger child, had crawled onto his back and clung there as intending to ride him. It was while she was distracted that Hatcha called out to the musicians who started a low drumming beat that was felt through the part of the dance floor. It was a pounding that reached her ears, her heart and her body until she felt as if she were being drawn into the music. The flute was a restless sound, a piping noise like a flock of birds disturbed in the night, but it blended well with the music. The crowd went still and silent until she was one among them perched on the edges of the branches that surrounded the flooring. Hatcha drew her down into a crouch that nearly pressed her side against the larger females.

The pounding music grew in volume and she felt her heart beat rising in time with it. Her claws bit against the bark as a nameless surge of energy rose up in her chest until it was almost painfully tight. The music wasn't what she was used to. It wasn't the twang of country or the brilliant rise of a orchestra, it was a subtle sound that caressed over her fur and made the energy spread to all of her limbs. It reached out and rubbed lightly as it seemed to feed the need to move. Hatcha shifted next to her and the muscular female gave her a wink before her long thick tail jerked up into the air and fell down again.

A burst of movement erupted above them and a pair of squirrels dropped down from the trees to lightly hit against the woven branches. Their paws barely touched before they were up again and launching towards a higher point. It was a trigger that spread through the crowd as lithe bodies began to drop from where they watched and dashed across the opening. They barely touched the ground before going up again, only to kick off to drop once more. They jumped and rose with flashes of their tails in a wild fashion that made no sense to her eyes at first.

"Each position has a matching position on the branches. They touch it and go to a spot beyond. Watch them, and you will see as they all join in." Hatcha kept pressed down, her body nearly quivering. "I will give you the word when we are ready and you will aim for the spot in the left corner where the yellow tipped leaf rests."

Mark blinked in bafflement, and glanced to see what place was being indicated and then back at the bodies that started to grow thicker. It looked like wild chaos with no meaning except jump, touch, jump. It took several rounds of the dance for him to see the flashing of their colors and the brush of the bodies. They were always almost hitting each other, almost touching, sometimes they did touch. They went over and under each other, they crisscrossed and twisted in wild abandon. They always looked as if they were going to crash, but they never did. Just as they came close enough that she was sure they'd hit, they hit their mark and leapt away or dropped down again. It was an elaborate display that had everything to do with a mastery of timing and talent. It was more then she could ever hope to do. She'd try it and end up piled beneath squirrels who would curse her and shove her out of the way.

"Now, now! Dance, Marrck, Dance!" Hatcha chattered and suddenly the red female launched forward and kicked off their branch.

Mark did not want to join her. She was going to end up embarrassing herself. But the sight of the body launching so close to her triggered instincts that she hadn't even imagined possessing so that she threw herself after Hatcha. Her body launched into the air and she tried to latch her eyes on the spot she'd had pointed out. The leaf stood out to her as she dropped down from where she'd been and felt the air being disrupted over her as another squirrel went over her. Hatcha dropped down only a few inches away from her as Mark's paws hit the wood and she brought her haunches down. That was all she had time for before she was off again. This time she had to trust the direction that the Sabon was taking her as they kicked off.

Another body went beneath her and she could feel others moving around her as she blindly launched herself to an empty branch. Her chest nearly slammed into it as she brought her haunches up and scratched against the bark to clamber up next to the graceful Hatcha. The flashing buck teeth grinned down at her before one of the red paws dropped down to grip her scruff and helped haul her up to properly stand on the branch with her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her ears flicked down against her head and Mark turned about to look at the other leaping squirrels that timed their movements to the beating of the drum.

"Not bad!" Hatcha grinned brightly and clattered her teeth together with a chittering noise. "Ready to go again?"

"I..." Mark swallowed and flicked her ears back. "I guess I can try. Same mark?"

"Yes, always the same mark unless they signal a change." Hatcha bobbed her head and crouched down so that Mark mimicked her.

And away they went. Mark didn't quite know why she tried again and again, but there was a beat to the music and the passage of many furred bodies that was strangely intoxicating. It took a few missteps before she realized the pattern to it. Different branches jumped at different times so that no matter how fast the drums went, they always were signaled by the touch of paws on the woven floor. The patterns that they formed were as much from their bodies as they were from the shadows and flashes of light. It was strangely wild before the voices started to cry out in short chattering noises as their teeth hit together and the softer voices rose upwards in short bursts of song.

At some point in the dance Hatcha's large red form left her, but Mark continued to jump and dance. She watched others that others would not only leap, but that they dropped and twisted. Their bodies arched and turned their jumps into a dance form all their own. After a few drops she tried to do the same. It was... so strange to feel her body responding to her in foreign ways. Her muscles did things that they shouldn't have been able to. She was able to stretch and dance so that she twisted and did things she never could have managed. Her haunches were far more powerful than they had ever been as a human. The powerful muscles tensed and relaxed as she kicked off and her body was thrown into air higher then she'd ever gone with a simple jump.

At times she had to contain her enthusiasm so that she didn't launch herself up and towards the upper branches. Part of her wanted to, she wanted to see how high she could jump and what she could when she let herself free. The only thing that held her back was the constant beat of the music and her own breathing as it came in short pants. The music changed often, but she only had to watch the others for a few moments to understand how they had shifted their dance. Some were less leaping and more jumping from branch to branch. Others were entirely on the woven platform where they wove in and out of each other. They tumbled and slipped until her sides tingled with the brushes of other furred bodies against her. It was a heady rush, and one that left her almost forgetting the worries that dogged her heels. And it didn't stop until Kitch laughingly tumbled against her side and they went tumbling towards the edge of the platform.

"You keep this up, Marrck and you will fall asleep before the real fun." He bristled his whiskers with his smile and she grinned back.

"I like to dance." Mark spoke and she heard her own surprise at that statement. "I really enjoyed it."

"There'll be more, the musicians are going to rest for now, it's getting later and we both need something to eat and drink." Kitch pushed himself up and offered her his paw. "You didn't dance where you came from?"

"Dancing was nothing like that in my world." She looked back at the few dancers left, but she saw that most were starting to move towards small out of the way branches where she could smell something delicious. "But I guess we can go and eat something."

She gripped Kitch's paw and let him haul her up, only to nearly fall down again as her legs felt almost like jello. She managed an apologetic smile towards her friend while she flicked her tail down and gripped his forearm a bit harder to keep her balance. Kitch let out a bit of a churr of amusement, but kept her balanced until her muscles decided that they wanted to move again. She stretched and cracked her neck a bit before she released the arm and let her friend lead her to one of the places that was filled with steaming baskets of food. None of it looked remotely familiar to her, nor did it smell familiar. The spices were all wrong and made her wrinkle her nose back slightly. Kitch only pushed a carved plate into her paws and started to rapidly fill his own.

Hatcha appeared from somewhere and leaned over Mark to start to fill her plate with things. She opened her mouth a little bit to protest, but closed it as she had no idea what she wanted to put on her plate. The big female settled beside her and ended up filling the plate until it was almost too heavy. The food was piled high, but only some looked vaguely familiar. There was some sort of bred that was pounded flat and looked thick with bits of dried fruit and small vegetables that were in a thick creamy sauce that was hot enough steam rose from it. There was something that looked like a bun, but it was a vibrant red color instead of a normal brown. It at least smelled edible to her and her stomach was cramping in painful reminder that she needed to eat.

"Go over there." Hatcha gestured. "I'll join you both in a bit. I need to feed our minstrels before they begin to eat their instruments."

"Don't forget to get something to drink." Kitch gave her a nudge towards some carved cups so that she had to fumble to hold the heavy plate with her drink.

Kitch led them towards a spot partially in the shadows from the green lantern light. The wind rustled from an opening in the branches so that it spilled along her cheeks and cooled the flushed state of her cheeks. She was happy to take a position against a thick branch and propped the plate up on her knees with a sigh. The sound of the music changed as she took her first hesitant nibble of the sweet bread. It tasted like almonds and berries. It wasn't dry like she thought it would be, it was moist as if it had been soaked in some sort of juice that brought out the flavors. It was quite good and to her surprise she managed to eat nearly all of it in a short amount of span to take the edge from her hunger.

When she glanced up she caught the sight of a young female that barely stood barely half the height of most of the others around her. It was likely a child and her fur was a deep ebony color that caught in the shadows and lantern light. She held a small wind pipe up to her lips and blew out a soft sweet tune onto the night air. It trembled and rose up in a series of trills that made Mark grin a little bit before nibbling on one of the vegetables that looked like a carrot. It was tart on her tongue as she flicked her tail back and forth to the soft sweet tune.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Marrck?" Kitch's voice was plaintive and she glanced over to see him watching her with a small smile on his face.

"Yes...." She blinked, shocked at her answer. "Yes, I am. It's strange and lovely. I've never seen anything quite like it in my life."

She sighed out a little bit and she felt a brush of fur against her back before the large form of Hatcha settled down behind her. Mark wiggled forward a little bit to allow for some room on the thick branch for the other female.

"Yes, strange and lovely, like yourself, Marrck." Hatcha grinned as she set herself up as if she belonged there. "Don't you agree, Kitch?"

"Certainly nothing like her anywhere I've seen." Her friend gave a slightly embarrassed smile and Mark's ears flicked flat against her head. "I meant no offense."

"I suppose not..." Her stomach tensed up slightly and she covered it up by plucking up the red roll and biting into it to distract herself. The sharp taste of beets spread over her tongue and she fought the urge to wrinkle her nose up.

"You don't agree?" Kitch flicked his ears up a bit and put his plate down on the branch.

"Not really." Mark shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe I'm the only human that ever got changed like this, but that doesn't make me strange and lovely. That makes me a bit of a freak." The last word came out harsh and in english.

"Frreack?" Kitch rolled the unfamiliar word on his tongue and frowned. "What does that mean?"

"Not normal. Not... right. Something that's not supposed to be." Mark struggled to find a way to explain it. "Something wrong and never supposed to have been."

"Misborn?" Hatcha spat the word out and clacked her teeth together. "You are saying that you are misborn?" Kitch's features wilted and looked a bit hurt.

"I... guess? I don't know what your word for it would be." Mark shifted so that she could watch both of them at the same time. Hatcha's features were drawn up in disgust.

"You are not misborn. A misborn is something that should have died at birth because it is unable to live and prosper." Hatcha leaned forward. "Do you truly think that you are that thing? That you are unable to live because you never should have been?"

"No... I mean..." Mark swallowed and her throat felt dry as she watched Kitch's features crumpling somewhat. As if she'd said something wrong, distressing. "I just mean I don't feel right here."

"You looked right when you danced." Kitch spoke softly. "I've never seen someone love to dance so well. You moved beautifully and... I loved to see you with laughter on your face instead of pain. You always look so unhappy and I do not wish that for you."

"I suppose... I did enjoy dancing. I've never moved like that. Most of the time I can barely walk without falling over my feet." Mark tried to laugh at that and it fell silent as she realized that they were still watching her closely.

"You should dance more then, Marrck. Enjoy our music and these people. They watch you move and revel in the strength you add to us." Hatcha flicked her ears up and moved her paw down to the pouch that was hanging at her side. "You should enjoy this night. I brought you up here because you needed to be introduced to your sabon, but you also need to be marked like us."

"Marked like you?" Mark tilted her head down nervously, but it was stopped by Hatcha's paw as it moved down to cup beneath her chin. The Sabon tilted her head down until her brow was lowered all the way to the point that her chin was touching her own chest. Mark blinked a bit at a vivid blue streak that ran the length of the furred brow from just between the ears all the way to the back of the head. Spots of shocking white lined either side towards the base of the neck before it disappeared.

"Yes, indeed you should. You are one of us, but you still don't believe you are. Come here, Marrck. Come with me." Mark flicked her eyes back to Kitch who stood up and he looked a bit flushed.

"I'll come with you, Marrck." Her friend gave a small smile and took the plate from her fingers so that it could be set aside.

Mark didn't know what was happening, but she let the fingers move to take her own. Hatcha gripped one paw, while Kitch the other so that she was pulled from the shadows where they'd been eating. The young girl kept blowing on the pipe and the song lifted up into the air steadily so that it rose and fell with a sweet silvery noise. She glanced towards the small stage as she was pulled into the midst of the woven platform. The gnarled branches were uneven and only the paws on her own steadied her as she was drawn into the middle of it. The silence that sprawled outside of the music spread to the branches one by one. It was unsettling to see the rippling furred bodies that were eating and had been chatting turned to watch their progress.

Every part of her mind screamed to bolt back to where they had been eating, she didn't want to on the spotlight like this, but she couldn't. Kitch gave her a reassuring look as she was drawn to where the black squirrel girl piped and trilled her music faster and faster. It was soon accompanied by the soft thudding sound as two of the minstrels started to beat the drums with their drops of their tails so the noise was hushed instead of the loud beating of earlier. They mingled together as she was drawn up towards the edge of the stage and Hatcha released her hand with a smile. Only Kitch remained holding her paw, his lips raised up in a smile as his eyes followed the Sabon's movements.

"Summer is at its height. Once again our sabon is doing so much work that we forget that this is a time of plenty and warmth." Hatcha's voice rose up loud enough to mingle with the music as she looked around those gathered. "We work and do our duties as we lead our groups, but when was the last time we gathered together in celebration? The welcoming of spring when we were lean or the wild parties of winter when we remind ourselves of our duties? Tonight we gather in the heart of season to celebrate one who comes among us who is not a blind kit coming into their own."

The trees rippled and a few of them chattered their teeth in approval. Kitch flexed his fingers against her paw and leaned in close. His lips nearly brushed against her ear as he whispered. "This is your initiation, it means that she thinks you'll do well in the sabon."

"And if I didn't?" She tilted her head back and whispered, her ears flickered backwards and one brushed against his muzzle.

"You'd have been found another spot." Kitch gave another squeeze to her hand. "Smile, Marrck, it is a good day."

"Marrck is one of the few among us that has come as an adult, which is why we've come here for her initiation. We could not allow her to have a quiet room and a few words, but a celebration so that she knows how welcome she is." Hatcha turned towards Mark and grinned with her buck teeth showing. "Come here, Marrck. I have seen you and spoken with you. I have heard your confusion and seen you dance among us. I have felt your words and heart. The summer sun hides behind the clouds of your confusion and doubt, but it is there."

Kitch released her paw and she hesitated a little bit as she gave a wild glance backwards. She did not want to go to Hatcha with all the eyes staring at her so intently. It made her swallow and her tongue grow dry as she slowly walked towards the grinning Sabon. The ears were high as she finally got in close enough that a paw dropped down on her shoulder. The fingers gave a squeeze and gave her shoulder a firm shake before she pressed down with enough force that Mark either had to struggle or drop down to one of her knees.

"I am the Il-Sabon. Tonight, you come among us with your fur perfect and unmarred. It has never known the touch of dye or paint. You have never been marked by a sabon or shaman. You are here because you belong here. You are here to start a life with us. You are unique in that you have no mother or father to stand here, but you do not stand alone." Hatcha spoke solemnly, or at least the tone was solemn. Her eyes were glistening with a laughter that made Mark's lips twitch with the urge to grin up at her despite her unease. "So, I claim you as one of my own! You are as my daughter to me or as my sister. You are as close and dear to me as the kits I've born and I will defend you against all, as will your sabon. You shall not lack a defender or protector, and you will stand up for those within your sabon as they will do for you."

The gathered squirrels chattered their teeth together so that a chittering noise spilled from tree to tree, with a louder one reaching her ears as Kitch grinned at her. The smiling face of her friend balanced her slightly as Hatcha plucked up a small bowl that was filled with something dark blue.

"The mark of our sabon." The large female dipped her fingers in until they were coated with blue paint and trailed them up to rest between her ears.

Mark fought the urge not to wince at the tacky stuff that was cold against her fur, instead she held still as the fingers drew backwards in a straight broad line. The wet paint left a trail that flattened the fur down as it reached all the way down towards the curve of the neck before it stopped. The fingers spread apart and briefly before leaving to dip into the paint again and returned. The thin line was drawn like a necklace until it reached her throat and the thumb rubbed a circle to create a circle where the fur was palest.

"The summer welcomes you and gives you a name within our ranks. Calina. I name you Calina after the late blooming flower that heralds a long full winter." Hacha dropped down into a crouch and moved her fingers up to cup beneath her chin. "Welcome home, Calina. Welcome to your sabon."

Mark didn't have time to think about the fact that she was being offered a name. She wasn't even given a chance to protest it. Instead Hacha leaned down and the soft lips pressed against her own. Their whiskers brushed together and she drew in a scent that was sweet and strangely comforting as the Il-Sabon kissed her. The world stopped for a span of a heart beat and then it was over. Hacha drew back with a smile and gave her a bright eyed wink.

"Stand up, m'girl! Stand up and greet your fellows!" Hacha pulled up and left Mark blinking rapidly as kneeled on the ground and tried to sort her own thoughts.

"But... I... I have a name..." She managed to stammer out, but it was too late. She was pulled up by the Sabon and turned about. Her mind was struggling to figure out what was happening, but things were happening too quickly.

"No, you have a past, Calina, now you have a present." Hacha whispered in her ear as Kitch caught her hands and grinned.

"You're not in my sabon, but I'll cheat and greet you too." He leaned forward and his lips brushed her own. It was the briefest of touches that mingled their whiskers before he pulled away. "Welcome home, Calina."

Mark found herself surrounded by faces she had been introduced too, but now lips pressed against her own or her cheek or her forehead. Hands reached out and pulled her into an embrace as they welcomed her with gentle touches and soft words. It was an overwhelming experience as she tried to stammer out her own words, but lips and touches silenced her. The grinning faces blurred together as the pounding of the music began to build up behind her into what it had been before. Through it all she heard one name spoke, Calina. And each time she latched onto her own name frantically. Mark. She was Mark....