Chapter 1135 Ian's Story

• Oakley
• Grandma Freya doesn’t care about the hustle and bustle of the harvest season. The only thing that matters now, as the first leaves begin to yellow and crinkle on their edges, and the air has a sudden cold bite in the morning while still warm and toasty every evening, are the massive piles of wool that need to be tended–washed, brushed, dyed, and spun. Grandpa Andrew has spent the last two weeks ensuring all the looms are repaired, if necessary, and moving without a hitch. While the rest of Silverhide dips into the chaos of the harvest, our family settles into the thrum of preparedness for a long, dark winter ahead, spinning and weaving.
• I’m rather good at it. I make my own clothes. I weave the tapestries my mother and father bring to the harvest festival year after year. My woven creations are wrapped around babies minutes after they are born and cover the bodies of our elders while they rest atop their funeral pyres in wait for their grand journeys into the stars.