Drapes: the drying holiday

Water has many charms, but the preservation of dead things is not one of its talents. In a world made of wells, that can be a problem when you want to stockpile food.
  Wishrats are blessed with true abundance. They’re frequently overflowing with food, but nothing is certain, and even they could face famine. With this in mind, the mission makes sure to have a steady stockpile. Every year they have an excess of lifemoss, they harvest all they can carry and go topside to the single dry piece of land wishrats “own,” to hold a weeklong drying ritual and festival in the sun.
  In the middle of summer, the bulk of the mission will gather in the bucket elevator at the center of Spider’s Eye. They will ascend, together, to the secluded landing on the ground of the world we know. Then the wishrats will make their way, on foot, moss in jaw and hand, to the Relief. Ages ago, wishrats carved and built a series of racks and shelves into the side of a cliff, where they would get plenty of sunlight. Every year, they bring moss of life to these shelves. There, the rats spend two whole days hanging and arranging the lifemoss, singing as they drape strips to keep in time and space. They treat it much like humans treated barn raisings. When dusk falls, the rats camp in whatever nearby nooks they can find. They have well enough technology to do almost all of the work for them, but they opt to perform this process with their own bodies. It’s a reminder of how most animals live — how the sun feels, how much work it takes to live.
  Once all of the lifemoss is laid out, all that’s left to do is wait. They make a festival of it, partying on the Relief floor on the first night. Spare paws gather seeds, bugs, berries, and they eat as animals. Smaller groups break off to explore topside — for many wishrats, these are the only times they ever see true sky and wild soil. It’s one of the few times they feel real hunger, know real danger. (Wishrats have plenty of safeguards in place, but some forego those and fast, to enhance the experience of living in an ecosystem.) There are also special tours and activities for young ones and first-timers.
  The night after all of the lifemoss is confirmed complete, the mission throws the biggest party of the week. They feast on moss jerky, wild-gathered food, and whatever human-made food the scouts have managed to find. After so many centuries, they’re very good at their job, so they get a lot. All of wishrat society indulges in a banquet that would make that one scene in Over the Hedge blush.
  After the banquet, there is a somber hour or so, when wishrats look at the stars and moon. They reflect on their week, on life, on the fun and beauty of living in your body, on mortality.
  After this hour, the festival is effectively over. Wishrats can make their way home in whatever time and manner they choose. All are encouraged to take some jerky for their burrows, and to add some to the communal pile. Some will return to normal life immediately, while others will stay in the emptier Relief for one last night. A few will decide to stay topside for even longer, wandering or finding other lives. It’s a melancholy but normal feature of this event. With freedom and growth inevitably comes loss.
  In small groups and solos, the wishrat superorganism returns underground to resume its mission with renewed determination. It is good to suffer, a little, to remember why they do this. It is even better to work to reduce that suffering in others. Until next year, they give Relief.