Anyone can join, with a 50-word vignette in the comments. Your vignette does not have to include the prompt term.
The voice that came over the stones was honey-sweet. "Such a sweet child. Do you wish a rich gift for your birthday? I can give you one."
Tom jerked back. "Not my birthday," he muttered, but the figure seemed to hear him, for he nodded and said, "All the better."
A bright-eyed girl, her skirts and hair blown by the wind, her face not showing a trace of fear as if she had been caught unaware.
"Eleanor," I said, and realized only when the squires were looking at me. A daughter of a minor noble. It had been her birthday.
Said one knight in silver armor, as flexible as cloth and gleaming like metal, "It can't be the king's birthday, or we would not gather this far from court."
"Don't be such a wise acre," said a woman, no higher than Halley's knee. "You can see our guest." She waved.
"We could go out and find some treat for the girls. Since it will be Natalie's birthday next week," said Mr. Fitton. "It would have to be a surprise."
He looked thoughtful. I bit down the observation that it would be my birthday in two days.
"What would she like?"