PHOENIX — The air is quiet but charged with energy, like the moments after a lightning bolt arcs across the sky during a thunderstorm. Then, the thunder returns — the drum rumbles. The lions have arrived, summoned by the drum. They stand still, waiting for the next crash of lightning.

The sharp hits on the drum make the air tremble, while the cymbals and gong ring out over the thrum.

The lions spring into action, the spell that held them motionless now broken by the crash of the percussion. They raise their heads, moving sharply to the left and right, exactly on beat. The precise, sharp movements entrance the audience, but the crack of fireworks and the pop of light tear their eyes away from the lions.

Another rumble of thunder. The lions are off, weaving through the crowd. Hands, both

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