The land pulsing with the reflections of kindled bonfires was lined with the silhouettes of dancing Metkayina guys and girls, who were cheerfully celebrating their entry into the clan as an adults, not as kids

Miles put his head down on his clasped hands, watching them with a slight interest — even though he’s never been a part of such festivities, he could not help but admit that it all looked pretty beautiful, in fact, with all those fancy fires and other stuff the elders made especially for the celebration. Especially young females.

He sat on the sand a bit further from the edge of the celebration, enjoying the warm sea breeze and watching the festivities with a mix of pride and restlessness. At his fifties, he felt like he was already too old for these childish games, even though he didn’t have a partner — his responsibilities and helping the clan were always at first place. He felt like something more, something meaningful, something important and thoughtful.

But a tradition was a tradition, and everyone from the clan were supposed to take part in it, even those who were long way from being considered a “youngster”.