Elder Lux walked the edge of the gathering circle at dusk, counting the empty logs where the young ones should have been. He carried every story the commune had ever told, but stories needed ears. Tonight he would try something different. He would change how he told them. He dragged the old puppet stage from the back of the stone hall where it had sat for seasons. The wood was heavy, the carvings still sharp under his fingers. He set it in the center of the circle and lit two lanterns on either side. The red curtains caught the light and glowed. Tomorrow he would not just speak the histories. He would make the ancestors move and breathe behind that little frame. He would give the young ones something they could see.

The young ones arrived just after dawn, but they did not sit. Finn stood at the front with his arms crossed. Poppy shifted her weight behind him. Three others Lux recognized but could not name hung back near the edge of the circle. They watched the puppet stage with eyes that gave nothing away. Lux walked to the monument and placed his hand flat against the weathered stone. The carvings showed bears and deer and birds exactly like the ones who lived in the forest now. "You want to know why it matters," he said. Finn's ears twitched but he did not uncross his arms. Lux traced the outline of a carved fox with one finger. "Your grandmother's grandmother is on this stone. The bear who found the clearing when the winter was too long. The deer who marked the safe paths through the deep woods." He turned to face them. "Every story I carry lives right here. In the ground you walk. In the trees that give you shelter. In the names you call each other." Poppy took a step forward. Then another. She sat on the log closest to the puppet stage. Finn's arms loosened. He sat too. The others followed. Lux picked up the first puppet and felt its weight in his palm. They were here. They were listening. It was enough for today.