Okay... But this is all you get :)
They came from the east, devastating the crops and leaving tiaras and cloak-pins in their wake. As usual, my brother and I were assigned the cloak-pins. The larger items were divided among the older cousins, and the fine work - the statuary, the gem-encrusted medallions - was left for the adults. The argument is that our smaller fingers are more suited for sorting through the wheat-chaff and separating the pins from the stalks. I just think they donít trust us not to break something. Still, some of the pins are delicate, filigreed things of unparalleled workmanship, so I suppose I could just be grousing.
Tomorrow, weíll load up the wagon and off to market. For tonight, itís praising goddess, reciting from The Book, and drinking. Even my brother and I will be given a share of watered wine. I suppose once every five years isnít enough to turn us into lushes, like Fat Wilbur. Next time they come, Iíll be old enough to gather the tiaras. Iíll have unwatered wine, as well, and perhaps dance with RebeccaÖ
But thatís a fancy for another year. Tonight, we give thanks for our locust/goldsmith benefactors and sleep it off. Tomorrow, we sell their wares and pretend itís ours. Then, the rest of the year, we live off the hoarded harvest of the last five years, while we rebuild the fields and live our lives until they breed again. Until they come out of their holes and darken our skies with their wings and fill our ears with the ringing, tinkling din of the Golden Harvest.