Weak knees from the level, I’m sick from the treble, I’m your type of metal
Ningos are a tricky beast that Hester has dealt with more than once in her life thus far. Usually, you’re lucky, and the birds flee after the fire is lit, seeking cooler, safer places to perch. For a moment, Hester feels lucky, while she works on the desk, but it’s a short lived feeling, more and more telltale coos echoing down the chimney.
Chuy walks past just as she moves to look at the fireplace again, hands on her hips. ”I thought we’d at least be able to finish building before we got to the birds.” Hester sighs, letting her head loll to the side. She knew they were going to finish lunch before she actually did anything though, following Chulane back outside to devour a sandwich (and a half), prepping for what was surely going to be a battle of wits and skill.
The broom is accepted with a steely smile, every part of Hester braced for battle. Before she enters the shack again though, she scrounges up a few damp and rotting slats of waste wood carrying those inside as well. With no one to tend to or feed it while they ate, the fire has burned down, little more than embers. Low enough that Hester feels no fear in leaning over and jamming the broom up the chimney, clattering it against the sides in an attempt to scare the ningo away.
It’s hard to tell immediately if she’s successful, but she has a safety net, the damp wood. Hester builds the fire higher, then sets her damp cargo atop it, smoking out any birds still in the chimney. Then, she leaves the shack, meaning to go and help with the walls. Hester is confident she’s been successful, confident her plan is going to work without supervision.
Chuy walks past just as she moves to look at the fireplace again, hands on her hips. ”I thought we’d at least be able to finish building before we got to the birds.” Hester sighs, letting her head loll to the side. She knew they were going to finish lunch before she actually did anything though, following Chulane back outside to devour a sandwich (and a half), prepping for what was surely going to be a battle of wits and skill.
The broom is accepted with a steely smile, every part of Hester braced for battle. Before she enters the shack again though, she scrounges up a few damp and rotting slats of waste wood carrying those inside as well. With no one to tend to or feed it while they ate, the fire has burned down, little more than embers. Low enough that Hester feels no fear in leaning over and jamming the broom up the chimney, clattering it against the sides in an attempt to scare the ningo away.
It’s hard to tell immediately if she’s successful, but she has a safety net, the damp wood. Hester builds the fire higher, then sets her damp cargo atop it, smoking out any birds still in the chimney. Then, she leaves the shack, meaning to go and help with the walls. Hester is confident she’s been successful, confident her plan is going to work without supervision.
Hester
