"All the moths you can see are juveniles. We've been calling them mothlings. They all like to sing, and these ones are into unusual musical scales. You're from late enough--you might have heard of the hexany? But of course the mothlings like the higher-dimensional variants."

Sasha clinks her glass to Ione's. "Anyway... to the success of our enterprise?" And the confusion of our enemies.

Sasha sips her drink. It has the brightness of the first green shoots after a long snowy season. The second sip is more like caramelized pepper. The third is bright again.