Chapter Ten: In Which We DANCE!

“HoiST ME Up LADs!”

The feast had gotten out of hand in a big way. And well – who gave a shit! In fear that we might all be killed the next morning, nobody was worried about their waistline; not one of us, not one Pugglemuntian gave a thought to their hangover. We’d gorged and sung and kissed and fought, and the mead had flowed like summer wind, and I’d drunk a vat of wine and tied my hair up in a ponytail and told Glob I wanted to marry her. Everybody was laughing and mad, everything was woozy and whirring. Drums! Bagpipes! A roaring big fire and mandolins! Mando-fucking-lins!

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