When the Drums Remembered Respect

Previously

…Elder Maeve, her face a roadmap of gentle smiles and quiet wisdom, sat on her usual stool outside her small hut, mending a fishing net. Her eyes, sharp and kind, scanned the village square. She saw the hurried movements, the forced smiles, the way the elders nodded to each other with a shared, unspoken concern. The usual vibrant energy, the spark that ignited the festival spirit, felt like a candle flame flickering precariously in a draft. She watched a group of younger boys, usually eager