I didn’t get too far yesterday, but held out hope I might all the way up to watching America’s Got Talent to see if I’d be inspired.
An ember pops in the fire. Everyone gathered jumps but the music never stumbles. Jansa only realizes how hard she’s gripped her mother’s hands when Juena breaks one free and pats her daughter’s hand. Juena coos unintelligibly, but reassuringly like Jansa is still a girl.
Without her hair, Juena appears small, even fragile. Jansa tries to imagine her mother’s graying dreadlocks glowing coppery in the wavering light of the last campfire the tribe gathered.
Word count: 100