During a Festival

Outside of Gerudo’s Fortress, a caravan of tents stretched across the desert dunes. From a distance, the collection of tents almost looked like a kaleidoscope of color and light against the desert sand, now shaded by the encroaching dusk.

Nabooru walked along the tents. The sights and smells around her filled her with glee. It was time for the Gerudo tribe’s annual festival. The festival meant hundreds of people trading exotic goods, selling delicious food, and of course, there were the dances.

In the center of the herd of tents was an open area where dozens of Gerudo women and other traveled to the festival were dancing. There was even a wooden stage in the center where two Gerudo women were dancing with swords. The two women juggled the the curved swords with an **** amount of grace in skill. It was a display of both beauty and combative skill.

To Nabooru, the festival couldn’t be more perfect, it was one of her favorite parts of the year. But, unbeknownst to the Gerudo leader, she’d be losing her clothes very soon.