They built the cone carefully. Everyone knew things like that had to be just so.
“Will they come?” Nelly fretted, slim fingers worrying the edge of her tunic.
“Sure thing,” Dahlia’s nod was as resolute as her voice. “We did it exactly. And it is the right time.”
Nelly nibbled on a lip. Aunt Lorena’s mind wasn’t what it used to be. What if the elder’s confusion extended to passing on instructions?
“There,” Dahlia placed the last stick, straightened, and took a step back to admire their handiwork. She tucked a wild lock of dark hair behind an ear and chuckled. “Looks as if they’re putting their heads together.”
Continue reading at Na’ama Yehuda