Stifling a curse, Seketa tried to push them back together without getting up, the tip of her moccasin proving not as effective as her hands would have been. “I told you we should have put them in a basket,” said one of the girls, frowning at the mess. “Then do it,” Tindee’s eyes flashed as she tossed her head high. “Why are you staring at it? Pick up the husks and put them in a basket. You can use mine, if you want to.” She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t wait for anyone else to do it. It won’t happen.” “Why me?” muttered the girl angrily, yet as another glare flashed, she dropped onto her knees, collecting the wet leaves. “We are almost done here,” said Seketa, picking the last of the maize. She wiped her brow, then glanced at the sun. “I hope they are not planning to grind them today.” “Trust them to make us grind corn until the Father Sun goes to rest behind the western field.” Tindee held her half-naked cob at arm's length, frowning at it. “I’m so tired, I can barely see.”
