“They left it here for a reason.”
Barbra rolled her eyes. There was hardly a thing Robin would not make a story of. “Okay, I’ll play. Who did and what for?”
Robin approached the holed-out structure with something like reverence. The round openings were just large enough for small children to wriggle through and climb and sit on with legs dangling. She had, when young, though she hadn’t seen many playing on it recently. Perhaps it meant the time was nearing.
“The fuamhairean had,” she said. “The giants left it but they will come back.”
“And supposing they exist, what could possibly be their reason to deposit it here?”
Robin sighed. Barbra wasn’t a believer. She wasn’t expected to understand. Still, it was important to explain. “It is a bead for their necklace. Their string tore. They’re waiting for the elves to weave them a thicker thread. It takes years.”
For Crispina’s Crimson’s Creative Challenge
* fuamhairean – “giants” in Scots Gaelic
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