Hushed Willows the light is coming [festival]

"@Olive!" Rannoch greeted, having felt immediate relief once their gazes had met. "It would be my honor," he replied, accepting both her bidding and the floweret that she held; he had never sported a flower before. Using Olive as an example, Rannoch took the bloom and indelicately nosed it into his chest fur until it stayed put—the result was not as beautiful as Olive's had been. 

"Ack!" Rannoch remarked, his ears falling as he realized what he had done, "Sorry!" He glanced in the direction of the maypole then, seeking asylum from his embarrassment; his excitement and nervousness had gotten the best of him and the flower. "Should we dance now?"