Chapter Eighteen
Auden“I feel like you’re not listening to me.”
I adjust the phone closer to my ear as I walk down the wooded path to the chapel. I’ve got a roll of blankets under one arm and a jug of water dangling from my hand, and trying to balance everything while listening to Tally talk about pollen analysis is almost too much.
“I’m listening,” I say, awkwardly readjusting the blankets. “You said something about a pollen sample from one of the cists?”
“Yes, we took a sample from each grave—it helps us see what additional plant matter might have been put inside the graves along with the cremated remains. And we also took a sample from outside the graves too, for a sense of what flora was native to the valley at the time.”
“Ah,” I say. “So what pollen did you find in the graves
