Book Eight: Chapter 197

In a small field, about a mile from Adhara’s home, he found a handful of stones and identified his target, which was a tree stump. Rolling the rocks around his hand, he took aim at his target and nodded to himself every time he hit the stump.

“I wish my dad was home,” he said, speaking his worries aloud to the stone in his hand before casting it. Such activities were illogical in scope, but he did find a manner of relief in speaking his concerns out loud while participating in the ritual of throwing his worries away. “I miss Grace. I wish we could play.”

THUNK. A chunk of wood broke off the stump.

“I miss Aunt Sofia’s cooking.”

Thud. This one bounced off without any damage.

He looked around to make sure he was alone. “I wish Aunt Lily was around to teach me some more interesting phrases.” She was probably teaching him things that weren’t age-appropriate, but that was part of her appeal.

Swish. That rock missed and disappeared in the grass. He trie