The entire town was gripped by a strangely sleepy atmosphere. Everyone had taken an afternoon nap, even the teenagers who felt they were too grown-up to nap, ignoring that the actual adults had taken one, too. All in preparation for the best night of the year, the longest night, or the Night of Uncovered Secrets, as some liked to call it.

  This year in particular, the night was greatly anticipated, even though the weather in the days leading up to the longest night had been unpleasant, to say the least. If it had been cold or snowy, people could have easily dressed for the weather, but there was only so much one could do if the weather decided to blanket the world in cold, wet fog. And yet, despite that weather, everyone was looking forward to the festival, as it was one of the rare cases in which the longest night and a full moon fell on the same night.

  Usually, only the Mother gave lessons during the longest night. The longer one ventured out into the night, the longer one could listen to her lessons and the more one would learn. Those who managed to last from dusk to dawn even received a blessing for the year, allowing them to learn even easier until the longest night came again. But this year, as the Daughter was high and bright in the sky, the night was special. The daughter’s faint light would help people, allowing them to cheat just a little and shed a bit of light to make the lessons less confusing.

  Additionally, the Grandmother would quietly share tales with the wind, allowing those who listened closely to uncover lost secrets. Few managed to hear those secrets, but those who did would go on to become important. Sometimes someone good, sometimes someone terrible, but always great and important.

  As the afternoon progressed, families gathered at home, eating an early dinner to give everyone the best chance of making it through the night. In one house, Sarah, the mother of a small family of four, was looking at her youngest daughter. Usually, children under ten would stay with their parents to prevent accidents. Sure, it was the longest night, the Mother’s most important festival, and the Mother was watching over them, but that didn’t mean that the parents were allowed to shed all responsibility.

  However, Hannah didn’t want to be leashed to her mother. She was already nine, and would turn ten in early spring, which meant she was effectively ten. She could take care of herself. Plus, it wasn’t like it was a really dark night. The clouds had disappeared in the afternoon, leaving nothing but a slowly reddening sky, promising a bright night, lit by the Daughter’s light.

  “Mom, I promise, I’ll be fine,” she tried once again, looking at her mother with all the seriousness she could muster. It was a good glare and, in some fifteen years, she might even intimidate someone with it, but, for now, her mother was more amused than scared.

  “How about a compromise?” Sarah asked, after a moment of quick thinking. On the one hand, it was bad luck to limit a child’s potential, especially during the longest night. On the other hand, she wasn’t comfortable letting her daughter run around completely unsupervised, sacred night or not.

  “You promise the Mother and me to stay in the area between the Rabbit Rock, the broken tree and the eastern road,” Sarah suggested, naming three landmarks close to the village, giving her daughter enough space to move around but still close enough that a loud cry would be heard in town. “If you do that, I’ll let you walk around on your own. I just want you to be safe, sweetie,” she told her daughter, getting an excited smile in turn.

  “I promise, Mom. And I promise the Mother,” Hannah agreed, instinctively knowing that this was the best deal she could hope for.

  “Now, you know the traditions. Don’t be loud, so you don’t disrupt the Mother’s lessons, don’t disturb others, and don’t run around. Be quiet and serious, or the Mother won’t treat you like a student to be taught, but an annoyance to be disciplined,” Sarah reminded her daughter, her face completely serious. Everyone knew that acting out during the Mother’s lessons was a foolish thing to do, and yet, it happened every other year. Some people, mostly young men, just couldn’t help themself.

  Stolen story; please report.

  “Leon, are you prepared, too?” she asked her son, just to make sure he wasn’t one of those foolish young men. He had celebrated on his own two times now, so he knew how to behave. However, the critical question was whether he would remember to.

  “Yeah, Mom, I’ve got everything,” he promised, looking quite pleased with himself. For a moment, Sarah was tempted to investigate, but then she decided that he was old enough. If he wanted to disrespect the Mother with some tomfoolery, well, the Mother gave memorable punishments. Never overly severe, not unless the person in question did something truly reprehensible, but her lessons seemed to stick. Always. It was the one power numerous mothers envied the Mother for, the ability to handle even the most troublesome child.

  Just before sunset, the entire village gathered on the village green. A single, solemn song was sung, a reminder that this was both a celebration and a lesson, something joyful but serious. Then, once the sun had set and darkness spread across the land, people began to leave the village green, walking into the night.

  No torches or candles were lit, people stopped talking, and everything became quiet. For a few minutes, Hannah felt a little uneasy as she walked into the darkness, soft noises growing louder in her ears, and even the sound of her own heart seemed like a drum beating in the distance.

  Then, after she left the village proper behind and walked into the area she had promised her mother to stay in, the Daughter’s light became stronger, allowing her to see just a little more than she had moments before, making her feel strangely at ease. The Daughter was watching over her, and her light would help her learn the Mother's lessons. With the Daughter’s light, she could faintly see a few people around her, but nobody was approaching, just as she was keeping her distance from them. She didn’t want to disturb them or break the Mother’s embrace.

  Instead, she let her feet carry her forward, walking slowly through the night, thinking and whispering to herself, looking at the world with fresh eyes. She knew this area; she had played here numerous times, but now, during the longest night, it looked completely different. It was fascinating, but also a little scary.

  But she was a big girl, she wouldn’t run to her mother, she would stay out, in the Mother’s embrace and learn what lessons she could. Defiance rose within her, the absolute certainty that the Mother was watching over her, struggling against that instinctive, lingering fear of the unknown, and the certainty was winning. Slowly, but surely, she felt something well up within her, an odd sensation, as if she was being tickled, only from the inside.

  Eventually, she started to giggle softly from the tickling, and the world around her shifted, just a little. A bit of wind began to swirl around her, moving with her giggles. Tickling her until she pushed it away from her body, flattening some of the grass around her in the process.

  “Well done, my child,” she heard a quiet voice whisper. It didn’t come from any one direction; instead, the whisper came from the darkness around her, from every direction, all at once.

  “Thank you, Mother,” Hannah replied, knowing that she had been given a gift from the Mother. And she would cherish the gift for all her life, she would nurture it and prove herself worthy of the Mother’s attention.

  Slowly, she continued walking through the night, a part of her mind occupied with this new, strange sensation. Somehow, she could feel the air around her, giving her a whole new sense to work with and explore the night. Instead of having to rely on touch and the Daughter’s light, she could feel the Rabbit Rock before getting too close to it, allowing her to veer off, still staying within the area her mother had allowed her. After all, she wouldn’t want to break her promise and find out that the Mother’s punishment for it was the loss of her newly given gift.

  So, she continued walking, feeling the world around her and listening to the wind. And, occasionally, hearing a few whispers, giving her new ideas about what she might be able to do with her gift. At one point, she faintly heard her brother’s voice, and it was filled with mischief, making her turn around immediately, unwilling to get pulled into whatever trouble he had in mind. Not on this night.

  For little Hannah, this was the best Longest Night she had ever experienced.

  For her brother? Well, the Mother always knew how to deal with foolish little boys. He, like so many other people, would have learned his lesson in the morning.