What Will Mina Let Fly at the Harvest Moon Festival?

Moonlight poured over the hillside as Mina stood beside the dragon kite her father had built, its blue scales shimmering like a sea that remembered his hands. The wind kissed the fabric and sent it singing, a soft, stubborn song that seemed to know every corner of the hill and every story tucked into its seams. People laughed and called out, the river below catching the sounds and throwing them back in silver ripples. At her feet, Grandmother Noor’s shawl whispered with the night air as she arranged cups of rosemary tea for the crowd and kept watch over Mina’s breath.