A Guide to Burden’s Moon
Burden’s Moonis the main winter holiday of the New Protectorate universe. It celebrates the sacrifices of the god Burden, who is tasked with carrying the world on his shoulders. Traditionally, in the Northern Hemisphere it began on the winter solstice and ended on the following full moon, but in the modern era it begins on December 21st and ends on January 21st. The first and last days are marked with feasts and are known as Moonrise and Moonset.
Moonrise is considered the family holiday, where clans and loved ones gather for an intimate meal around a fire. Gifts can be exchanged but aren’t required. Moonset is the community holiday and is often celebrated with potlucks, block parties, and festivals. The time between Moonrise and Moonset is dedicated to rest, community service, and gratitude.
The monthlong holiday is rooted in community survival. When the world is at its darkest and coldest, lives depend on collective harmony, fair distribution of resources, and gathering around sources of warmth. At its heart, it’s a time for family — those made and those found.
Ruffled Feathers Cafe
The holiday seasonhit Ruffled Feathers Cafe like an m-storm.
It was the same every year, but somehow Cassandra seemed to selectively forget all the negative aspects of it immediately after the fact. She imagined it was a bit like childbirth that way, though she’d never done that, so she couldn’t say for certain.
Either way, she cursed her flock to Grim’s riverbank and back when they began screaming at the unholy hour of four-thirty. It was December first, and that meant no one was safe at any time.
Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she rolled out of her nest. She free-fell toward the floor for a moment before instinct caught her. Her wings spread, catching the warm updraft, and softened her landing. Taloned feet hit the floor with a thud just as her sisters began dropping from their own nests around her.
The sound of ruffling feathers, scritching talons, and drowsy yawns were a chorus around her as she blearily sought out her dresser.
“I don’t get why we do this every year. This isn’t even our holiday,” Lucy grumbled as she passed behind Cassandra.
“Are you really whining already?” Eugenia called out, sickeningly chipper for the hour. “That’s got to be a record.”
“Shutup,”Lucy squawked. “Not all of us wanna be a kiss-ass before sunrise.”
Eugenia waited for their sister to begin to lower herself onto her vanity’s stool before she kicked out with one taloned foot, knocking it out from under her. Lucy fell onto her backside with a screech, wings ruffling to a comical degree, as Eugenia threw her head back and laughed.
“Want me to kiss your ass to make it better?” she teased, hopping out of the way of Lucy’s furious swipe.
Cassandra blinked hard, too tired to fall on either end of the spectrum of grumpiness just yet. Her brain didn’t work properly until atleasttwo cups of espresso were ingested.
As her sisters squawked and screeched, she donned a slim pair of black pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Her hair, bone-white with a smattering of chocolate brown spots and streaks, went up into a haphazard bun. Normally she put a little more sparkle into her outfit, but it was far, far too early for more effort.
While her sisters descended into a feather-pulling match, Cassandra shuffled out into the hall. The flock lived in what was once a large warehouse. It’d been converted to an aviary after the war because no one loved rafters like a flock of harpies. It took some creative engineering to separate rooms, but they’d managed to fit three families into the warehouse and still give everyone some semblance of privacy.
Well, as long as you weren’t the three Colomen sisters. They’d shared a room since they were born. They’d luckily had their own nests since puberty, when Lucy and Eugenia started pushing each other out whenever they argued, but that was as far as their independence went.
Until now. Or soon, anyway.
After a quick trip to the bathroom, Cassandra meandered into the communal kitchen, where her parents and several members of the other two families — all Colomens to somedegree — who made up their flock were already gathered around a box of day-old pastries.
Plastic bins of holiday decorations were neatly lined up next to the door, ready to be hauled out to the cafe. Wondering what job she’d get stuck with this year, she hurried over to the table to snag one of the good pastries before her sisters got there.
One had to be quick with food in a flock. There was no mercy amongst harpies when it came to the best bits — bloody or sugary.
Shoving half a chocolate chip muffin into her mouth, she halfheartedly greeted her aunts, uncles, and cousins as she made her way over to her mother, the ringmaster of the affair.
Standing at a towering six feet tall, with iridescent steel-gray hair and wings, Melissa Colomen was an intimidating sight even in her crescent moon-covered holiday sweater and matching barrettes. Her luminous gold eyes were fixed on the tablet in her hand, but that didn’t stop her from immediately recognizing when one of her chicks was near.
Before Cassandra could so much as mutter a chocolate muffin-y hello, she was yanked into her mother’s side and covered with one gray wing. “Good morning, chickadee,” Melissa trilled, one hand already smoothing down the feathers of Cassandra’s wings.
“Morning, Mama,” she replied.
From somewhere outside the kitchen, her sisters began to shriek at one another, probably over one of them being locked out of the bathroom. Or maybe over a stolen belt. Or even just a funny look. It never took much to get them going.
“They’re off to an early start,” her father muttered as he walked into the room. As usual, his dark hair was meticulously combed and every shiny feather laid down with care.
Like all male harpies, he went to great lengths to impress his mate even after several decades together. It didn’t matter thather mother looked at him like he hung the moon whether his feathers were groomed or not. Showing off for one’s mate was simply the done thing.
