Rowan and I took our time returning to the town square. Wrench really was beautiful at night, with its humming blue lights dispersed throughout the town in the trees.
The town square hummed with activity, most of its people gathered on the side of the boiler-fountain that looked like a steampunk millionaire's fireplace.
“Oh!" Rowan dove a hand into his pocket, withdrawing a pack of matches. “Take that."
“Alright," I said, taking it.
His hand returned to his pocket, this time withdrawing a painted charcoal cricket. “And that."
“Alright," I said, moving the matches to my palm and accepting the cricket between my open two fingers. Rowan and I only had a free hand between us, the other nursing a mead each.
“When the festival starts, you light it on fire," Rowan explained.
“Ah. Well,
