The Summer Solstice was in full swing. And all creatures–soluno, xiunari, and kukuri, had all gathered to celebrate the momentous occasion.

The long valley that spread between a hill on oneside and a cliff-face on the other had been converted into a festival-space. Banners in the shape of the sun had risen almost overnight, along with brightly-striped tents, stages of musicians and dancers, and vendors crackling savory meals over grills. The sky was almost light-blue, an odd color that came with the brightest peak of the sunlight. The field speckled itself with small wildflowers, as if too celebrating, and the cool breeze through the hills rustled the purple trees.

Nanny, a bright amber kukri with an oh-so-fluffy pelt sat across from a black-and-white soluno named Voidwhisper. Sharkbait, a grey belemoid physician-in-training stood close by, observing silently as they worked on making the paper lanterns. While the later cut out colored cardstock into beautiful shapes like roses and geometry, the latter fixed them to shallow tin cups with tea candles. The whole manufacturing process was simple, and intentional: The balloons, which would be affixed at the top later, would fill with air only so long as the candles were lit–this way, the lanterns would only falter from the sky after the risk of fire had passed.

But the risk on the ground–that was still real. As the tealights ran low, Nanny reached out a fluffy paw to dip a wick into melted oil to make another. Her hands were too large and she jolted, accidentally spilling the waxy substance onto the wood. "Uh," Sharkbait interrupted swiftly, "Sorry ladies, do you think you two could switch jobs?" Voidwhisper stared up at him with those mousey ears and big eyes of hers, and then she shrugged easily. While she was still furred, her smaller size meant she wasn't leaning over the flammable substances directly.

After some time, the makeshift candles were roughly completed, and a flurry of paper-cut specks littered the picnic benches. "Try lighting them," Nanny ushered, "Good to make sure that these homemade candles work properly." Sharkbait opened his mouth to raise concerns–just as a flicker from a tool sent the table unceremoniously erupting into flames. "No, no!" He shot up, but it was too late. Voidwhisper jumped back, having singed her fingers. The physician started to rush towards her–but then saw that Nanny had engulfed into a full ball of flames.

"No–no," he blurted, "Which one?" This was a concept called triage–the conscious choice to treat the patient in more immediate need. Suddenly forming a decision, he vaulted across the field and into a crowded tent. There, children of various species surrounded a bucket of various-colored apples. Without thinking twice he snatched it up by the pail and leapt out, splashing water everywhere. But what remained in the bucket, that is–went over the fluffy kukuri with a loud sizzle. Voidwhisper bit at her singed paws, regretting now that she hadn't thought through lighting the candles with the spilled oil.

The water extinguished the flame in a massive puff of smoke–a critical hit on an otherwise unfortunate situation. Had the fire burned any longer–she may have well suffered serious damages. Although she grumbled in dismay as she realized that the top layer of her fur curls were nearly all burnt to a blackened crisp, she hadn't suffered any damage, in part due to the physician's quick-witted thinking. After Sharkbait got through asking her about five different questions and checking her over, he turned back to Voidwhisper. "Are you okay?" He called.

"Yes, I'm okay, really," the soluno answered. But then her ear winced as she touched her paw. "I only touched the fire, but my paws–well, still hurt." Many of the lantern-making supplies had burned too–with a lot of the paperstock cut-outs having crumpled to ash, and the wax spilling out everywhere onto the table and meadow grass beneath it. "Here!" Sharkbait prepared a poultice of glingo leaves and basarytz sap. As she dipped her paws into the thick slime, she gave a sigh of relief at last. All of Sharkbait's patients were safe–and only narrowly wounded. He could finally be at ease again, but…

"What about the lanterns?" Voidwhisper sighed sadly, and even Nanny stood nearby, as if not wanting to leave behind their volunteer work. "Let's finish them–together," Sharkbait decided, "But I'm gonna have to bandage those paws first." After wrapping thick linen around the soluno's individual fingers, she and the kukuri found their way back to their slightly scorched seats, and went to salvage what materials they could. Although their inventory was reduced, together with Sharkbait's help, they managed to make two large paper lanterns and three small ones.

The trio stood side-by-side as they watched the late sunset dip over the meadows. Voidwhisper and Nanny each took turns lighting their lanterns and then releasing them into the sky. Although only five flew that night, they twinkled in the darkening air like brilliant stars.