Outside her hut, Isabella stood with her arms crossed, staring at the clay pots like they had personally betrayed her.
Ophelia and Shelia stood behind her, watching in confusion.
"…Did something happen?" Ophelia whispered.
"I don't know," Shelia replied. "She's been like this for a while."
Isabella narrowed her eyes at the pots. She had spent days molding them, and Kian and helped? to fire them, perfecting their shapes, and now, when she was finally about to use them, a horrible realization struck her.
She had no spoons. No knife. No nothing.
She couldn't even stir the food without burning herself. She couldn't cut anything without looking like a fool.
How was she supposed to cook properly like this? With her hands???
Unacceptable.
Ophelia hesitated before stepping forward. "Isabella…?"
Isabella inhaled deeply. "Ophelia. Shelia."
Both girls straightened immediately.
"I have made a grave mistake," Isabella declared, tone solemn.
