Mid-Heat Festival, a story for the Giraffe Call (@Anke)

For anke's prompt.
The priests were dancing in the square, the drumbeats so loud they seemed to rock the streets, and Toka wanted to see them, needed to see them.

The mid-heat festival was in full-swing, the press of people in the streets almost unbearable, vendors shouting about their wares, people singing off-tune, water-bearers pumping small portable fountains, dousing the finely-decked crowd with water to cool it off.

Around the legs of the crowd, under the tables of the vendors, behind the backs of the water-bearers, Toka darted, her darting its own dance, her steps in rhythm with the heavy drums in the center square.

"Rub a coin," she heard a boy tell his sister, and while they were distracted, she stole the rest of his purse. Too light. She dropped it at his feet and kept going. Throw the little fish back... and she was in a hurry, anyway. She had to see the priests.
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Excerpts 8, 9, 10

From my secret project:

“Be a good girl and I’ll get to keep being a good girl?”
“If you’re a bad girl, you won’t get a chance to do so much as pee without permission; if you’re a zombie, you’ll get someone who wants zombies.” She released Elisabeth’s chin and patted her shoulder. “How are your ankles?”

From my Tir na Cali novel:

What did I care what happened to Keva? She was just another Californian.

The Californian who had been, so far, willing to put up with me being a really bad slave, a voice that was pretending to be my conscience reminded me.

Yeah, but… it wasn’t like she treated me like an equal or anything. She still bossed me around like it was her right.

From the continuation to "Fairies in the Church:"
You know the ones that work, truly work.”

Nehemiah had nodded, although he hadn’t wanted to. He’d listed those off like a catechism. “Holy ground and the faith to hold it. A salt circle drawn by an unwavering hand. A nail of cold iron through their hand.”