They did not celebrate him. They celebrated something else, and he was just the feast. The vehicle to celebrate by. The light and the shadow was everywhere. He was the feast and in the Above they celebrated something he couldn't understand in a space vast and eternal.
When they had found him he was almost dead. When they had found him he thought he could live. When they found him they took care of him, but they put warm things on him. He was too hot and all dried up like a cooked huntsman. His feet were swollen from walking too far. He had gone too far and now they were putting hot things on him.
He missed his sister dearly. Now the voices, the loud and harsh noises, were ringing in his ears. He was moving but his body was not moving. Like sitting in the river, but hot and hard and high. The light moved everywhere and he was swept along with it into the hands of creatures he could only just barely comprehend.
They were celebrating, but they did not celebrate him. He was the feast, only the vehicle to celebrate by.