THIRTY-EIGHT
The sound of hooves on the stone gateway woke Mai from her uncomfortable sleep. She had spent so long dealing with the laundry last night that she'd laid down by the embers of the fireplace, with a rice bag as her pillow, to get a little sleep before dawn. Somehow the rice bag had come open as she slept, though, and the ashes were full of rice grains. With the last harvest as poor as it had been, Mai had shared much of their spare food with the villagers, and this was their last bag of rice. Every grain was valuable.
Sighing at her own stupidity for spilling the stuff, she began sifting through the ashes for the grains of rice so she could return them to the bag. She soon forgot about horses, visitors or anything outside the fireplace until Lei burst into the kitchen.
"Ma
