13
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Down the ChimneyBeaten by the scorching heat, Lupianne vented herself with a wide-rimmed cap from her mother’s abandoned wardrobe. The two sizains following the Council meeting had seen a steady rise in the temperatures.
The hard silk fiber scratched her fingers, but her mother’s worn hat had more personality, than the caps produced by the automated weavers. Everyone wore those caps, except Lorene, her bountiful hair making up for the lack of hat (and brains, Lupianne was tempted to say).
She put back on her mother’s cap: five seconds of the relentless Calypso pounding on her bare scalp were enough. She moved to the waiting shadow of the north face. She looked over the curving shell, making sure there were no leak or loose panel.
The young girl hadn’t found out an
