His eyes twinkled, and he shrugged. "A couple of hours," he answered. "Do you like it? Yes, yes, they're right next to each other. They're sort of...the same holiday? But in two different religions."

"Midwinter isn't religious," said Niabheara, for whom 'religious' meant that it had something to do with the fancier buildings in Cecelia. She clambered out of bed, curious, to get a closer look. "It's like a little Beltaine tree. A Beltaine bush." Once she fit it into some sort of context, she could take more pleasure in it. She danced in place before it, then went for a robe. "Brr! Stay where you are, I'll build up the fire first . . . "

Marcello obediently sat in place and wrapped a fur around himself. "It's religious where I'm from," he answered. "Anyway, the religious part matters less than the presents. And the tree."

Niabheara wrapped herself up, then bent by the fire, incidentally waking up Omauduan who greeted her with his usual morning nose in the ear. She squeaked, then rumbled the wolf's huge head between her hands. "Good morning, thou great lump!" she said cheerily, rising. She carried the washbasin--which had a scrim of ice over the top--to warm by the fire, then fetched Marcello his own robe. "We get presents?"

Marcello wrapped himself up warmly in his robe, and then crawled back into bed, shivering, the hair on his forearms sticking out at angles. "You got presents," Marcello replied. "And Omauduan might have a present."

"You don't get presents? If you set up the tree, you don't get a present?" She propped her hands on his knees and leaned forward to kiss him, incidentally allowing her untied robe to gape open at the front. "What must I do?"

"Well, no, it's my holiday, so I got you presents," Marcello explained. "If you want to do it next year, you can get me presents, too." He shrugged. "Pick one," he replied. "Start opening."

Niabheara smiled, then, curious, picked up an odd, long, cylinder-shaped gift and picked the knot out of the string, letting the contents roll into her hand. Her eyes widened and she laughed again. "A haunchbone! You're giving me a deer in installments, how lovely!"

Marcello snorted and cleared his throat. "Well, that was the one for Omauduan, but I'm sure he'll trade if you like it better than yours."

Niabheara clicked her tongue at Omauduan, who padded over. She waggled the bone over his head. "Dance," she commanded; "dance!"

The wolf whined, pawed at the air, and at last stood on his hind legs, where he was easily as tall as Niabheara. Finally she let the bone drop. He snatched it out of the air and dropped to the floor to gnaw it, tail thumping. Niabheara picked open the second gift. "Hm." She examined the little bottle, then held it near her nose. "Is it . . . scent? Where did you get this?"