She kept knitting. “Auntie says people should make gifts with their hands. It keeps the heart honest.”
The words might as well have been a knife. I leaned on the table to steady myself. “A wise auntie,” I murmured. “You’ll finish in time for the Full Moon Festival?”
“I woke up early. I want her to have it before the cold comes.”
Of course she did.
I lifted the untouched cup from the tray. “Maybe drink this. It’ll keep you warm while you work.”
“No, thank you.”
“Just a sip,” I urged. “It’s sweet.”
“I don’t want it.”
Her voice stayed calm, polite, but I felt the small wall rise higher. I set the cup down before my hand could shake.
“That’s very special yarn,” I said, studying the basket. “Would you like me to bring more from my tribe? It’s softer.”
Her tone never changed. “This one
