The final chapter of Crystal Cotillion has been finished, but it needs editing.

There will be an epilogue to follow it up, but the main body of the story is finished. I think I feel good about it. Maybe? I don't know. The ending has a lot of painful realism to it. I can't say that it is a happy ending, sorry.

I don't know when it will be posted, as the editing team is either asleep or not online.

I have an addiction to alliteration and I can't stop. I keep reading obscure thesauruses for words like 'exilience' so that I can alliterate better.

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The evening was so magical that Flurry Heart had second thoughts about its ruination. Things had slowed down to an almost sedate pace and the dancing was of a more socially acceptable variety—but was still beautiful to watch. Flowing, frilly gowns swooshed and swept over the floor, creating an exquisite display that delighted the eyes. The dance floor was populated with couples, trios, and even small herds.

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“Are you sure this will work?” Flurry asked her co-conspirator, Sumac. With one raised eyebrow, she turned her head in his general direction and gave him a look that only traitors plotting treason could give. She studied him, trying to determine the confidence on his face and to see if there was any hesitation in his reply.

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When Flurry saw her mother, she almost cried with relief because of what the nervous jitteriness was doing to her. What she wanted to do was fling herself at her mother, hoping to be held, to be comforted, but what she wanted to do and what she did were two very different things. Taking a deep breath, Flurry approached the table in a calm, dignified manner, and tried to hide how her hitching barrel made her wings quake.

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Yaks appeased.

Flurry knew that the last accomplishment was all hers and that the impromptu yak stomp dance had made the yaks feel welcome. The following yak hugs might’ve been a little too enthusiastic, but Flurry was fine with looking disheveled and was in no hurry to look straightened out. Now, the yaks had been shown to their yurts and were happy to be left to refresh themselves after a long trip.

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A female yak is called a nak.

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“Times have changed… and we've often rewound the clock, since the Tribalists got a shock... when they founded Canterhorn Rock. If today... any shock they should try to stem, 'stead of landing on Canterhorn Rock, Canterhorn Rock would land on them! In olden days, a glimpse of preening was looked on as something demeaning, but now, Celestia knows... anything goes!”

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