25—To RoostEven from a distance, I could see that they were all red-cheeked from the cold and from the climb up from the valley. None of them seemed to be injured, which made me release a breath I hadn’t realized that I was holding.
Though the shortest of the three, Aimaro looked twice as wide. As they approached, we could see that he carried a load of open boxes that were hung from a pole across his shoulders. Cages. There were birds inside—chickens.
“Oh, good,” said Sachi, “the morning’s entertainment isn’t over.”
Some of the older women laughed, the tension leaking from the assembly like water from a punctured tarp.
We stood there in two files as they entered. Aimaru looked to the chickens, who were complaining in their confinement, and then to Emi and to me, as if to say, Now what?
