The Flarelight festival was merely two days away. A night where Mesatalons gathered together and celebrated the moment where orange moonlight spun off of the towering Badlands, showering their civilisation in warmth and joy.

Canyon was just leaving his own den, stretching out his wings before leaping into the sky and catching onto a dry breeze. He needed to go pick up some lanterns from where the village lightcraftsman, Sulcata, resided. The dragon landed on the dusty streets of the market, looking around briefly before continuing along.