No, not walked.
“They’re dancing,” Ryder said.
I nodded, tucking my face down deeper into the neck of my coat. They were indeed dancing. And from the sway and bobbing of the Bigfoots near the stream, it looked like they were enjoying the show.
A whistle, off key and loud, cut through the music. A hush fell over the glade.
Then one voice sang out, deep and warbling like adung chen, the Tibetan horn, melancholy, yet powerful.
The hush turned into a murmur. It looked like everyone down there was excited by this turn of events.
At the northwest edge of the clearing, came a Bigfoot. This one was resplendent in light bulbs, all of them glowing and flickering in a wide, high-collared cape that swooshed and flowed as he strode into the glade like a knight returned.
I knew this Bigfoot was a he for three reasons: one: the light bulb cape; two: the traffic light winking red, yellow, green that he wore on his chest like plate armor; and three: the fricking light post he stabbed into the ground with each step like a lighted scepter.
“Holy shit,” Ryder murmured. “It’s Flip.”
It was indeed Flip, and I was getting a big ol’ eye full of Ordinary’s stolen property.
“He told me he didn’t steal that stuff,” I said.
“Well, good thing your finely honed bullshit meter caught right on to him.”
I tried to elbow the man, but he just chuckled and held me tighter.
The murmur in the glade tapered off, and the music began again, changing rhythm so the dancers, Flip now among them, could make their way like electric models strutting a catwalk toward the audience.
Once they reached the edge of the stream, they stopped and stood very still, winking and blinking in the glittery snow-diamond field.
The music halted. The world was silent in the muffled darkness for one, two, three, and then a hum, soft and sweet, drifted up and up. The melody echoed; the harmonies shifted in layers.
At the peak of the octave, the song went back to hums and growls and grunts, a vocal rhythm section. One of the watchers on the bank of the stream stepped forward, wove between the electric ’Foots, and stopped in front of Glow Stick.
There was a very human “awww…” and a soft clapping as the couple wandered off, hand in hand toward the woods.
Another figure by the stream stepped away from the rest. This time Miner Helmet was chosen to stroll into the woods among gentle applause.
A third watcher sashayed away from the river and hopped into the arms of Round Lights, who hooted a little victory warble. There was chuckling, then applause as they trundled into the trees.
“Are we watching the Bigfoot Bachelor?” Ryder asked. “Because it really looks like Bigfoot Bachelor.”
“Why isn’t anyone picking Flip?” I asked. “He said his heart was here, right? Where are they?”
We weren’t the only ones who seemed worried about this. At first, I thought the song was starting up again. But the murmur and voices that rose were not a song. They were questions and whispers and little sounds of concern.
“Eeee-oooo!” a voice called out so loud, I jumped.
“You okay there, Chief?” Ryder chuckled.
“That sounded close.”
He nodded. “Look to our left. Careful.”
I slowly turned my head.
If not for the small, lit-up heart necklace they wore, I wouldn’t have even seen the Bigfoot pushing silently—and I mean absolutely silently—through the snow and trees about twenty feet away.
Heart was moving fast. The absence of light made it hard to tell, but I’d say this Bigfoot was lighter haired than Flip and maybe just a little shorter.
