Chapter 8: Home

They were all so strange, I could not help but think, as I watched the villagers just speak with one another.

The soup was eaten up. They weren't leaving.

I looked at Anne, who was wrapping the stone I used for the soup in paper.

"Why do this?" I asked the little girl. Her smile was all dimples when she handed me the wrapped stone. The paper was yellow, but sturdy. It was obviously not used before.

 Just something one would use for butter.

But this was a stone. One I picked from the river. It did not have the value of butter.

"For the next festival!" She said, her voice was as chirpy as ever. "We'll bring different stuff! Maybe even a pig!"

I blinked. Well, there were a few recipes I could use with an entire pig, but that would be wasteful.