Description
On all sides of the vast cavern system that made up their home, Clan Foxfire gathered to see their ambassadors forward. Honeycomb could feel their eyes on her like burning as she hitched her heavy pack up higher on her shoulders and followed Pomegranate toward the northern mouth.
“Sacred Granddaughters, you make us proud to call you ours,” Grandmother Flame said, standing just inside the cavern, body limned with the light of the fading sunset. The iron-colored coils of her hair were caught in a protective knot on top of her head, and her warm brown skin glowed where the last remnants of the lengthening day touched it. To her sides, the faces of their Clan members were smiling, or reverent, or warm—but their eyes lingered on Pomegranate, on the perfect sight she made, walking in front with the offerings carefully packed in her bag and her chin held high.
Let them keep watching Pomegranate. Honeycomb wished they would not look at her at all. They would only be disappointed.
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