Mirielle looked out the window at the crowd. The sky was full of snow, but people were still pouring out of the houses and hurrying to the square at night. Dismissed, having fun.
The Salmon Festival came - the Night of the Spirits. The border between the world of the living and the world of the dead became thinner and thinner. On this night the living must prove that they are alive. Otherwise the dead will take them for themselves and fire them.
They were dressed in colourful clothes, with loud rattles in their hands, and they walked through the streets of the city, frightening each other and making each other laugh. They believed that they were driving the spirits out of the worlds of the hereafter.
As long as Mirielle remembered herself, she was always amused by salmon. Who scared people away - her? She also came from another world. In her seventeen years she had never met anyone but herself.
When she turned away from the window, she looked at another young girl. She poured lollipops from a paper bag into a velvet bag embroidered with pearls. She looked no older than seventeen years. She dressed her thick, dark hair like a cape and fell under her knees.
She looked very much like Mirielle herself with her face: perfectly correct facial features, young, fresh skin without a single defect, warm glow of big eyes. They were blue for brunette, emerald green for mirielle and light brown with a light red head and waved almost to the waist.
Mirielle stumbled impatiently with a sharp heel and shouted out loudly:
- Mom, are you coming soon?!
There is no doubt that she called the brunette with sweets "mother" at her age. She answered calmly without being surprised:
- Be patient, dear Miri. All I had to do was get the food. And your father dresses. One more minute and we are ready. Be careful with the parquet, dear. The dents remain. But my father and I worked it out with our own hands.
Miriel blinked, mumbled an apology and stopped hitting her heel on the floor.
- If you want, go to the square alone, daughter! - The man of forty years, thin, wiry, with small features and slightly slanted brown eyes added. - Dale was waiting for you, I guess.
Mirielle waved her head.
- I want to go with you, Dad. And Dale will be waiting for all of us.
- Then be patient," the man smiled. - You and your mother don't have to dress up, but I'm human. I am cold.
He stretched the isolated kaftan over his shirt, and then he put on another coat. The end of autumn in the town of Cof was cold. It had snowed for a long time, and the winds from the sea blew cold. People wore fur clothes.
And both girls - mother and daughter - wore only thick clothes. It didn't get wet under the snow, but it didn't protect from frost. They didn't worry about the frost - they went outside like that. The neighbourhood friend immediately began to see them. And the adults didn't stay behind.
- Bless the Night of the Spirits, Mona Diarad! Miri, God bless you! Mater Gorak, happiness for your home and your beauties!
The girls smiled and touched everyone who asked. The man also smiled, wished himself happiness and admired his beauties.
None of the inhabitants of Cofah was embarrassed or surprised - neither the light clothes of the girls nor the difference in age between them and the man. Rusa Miriel and her black-haired mother Diarad were fairies. The fairies did not feel cold. They did not grow old when they were young. Because the mother did not seem older than her daughter.
But Maitre Horak, the head of the family, was a man. A simple craftsman, who grew up and aged according to the laws of the mortal world..... He looked at his 43.
There were few such families in the coffee, but they were used to them. Every man dreamed of being in the place of Horak. Get an eternally young and beautiful woman and live with her full of soul. Not so many fairies were on Remidei. And even fewer families with mortal men. Everyone dreamed of fairies, but few were lucky.
The streets of the city were loud and bright, although it was dark early in the late autumn in these latitudes. The lanterns were shining, amplified by magic lamps. Street orchestras played, danced with unloaded Skomorokhi.
Miriel and his parents approached the town square. A little boy flew towards them - as dark and brown-eyed as the head of the Horak family. He hugged Miriel at the waist and turned around.
- Miri, finally! He is waiting for you! Maitre Gorak, Monna Diarad, I wish you health and prosperity!
- You too, Dale! - The young man was greeted with joy by Miriel's parents.