Others insisted it was a bizarre renovation.
The boldest whispered that she had started some kind of cult inside her house.
“No sane person would do that,” people muttered outside the village shop.
“It’s all sharp. Just looking at it gives me chills.”
What no one saw was the care behind the work.
She selected every piece of wood herself, choosing only dry, sturdy stakes. She sharpened each one at a precise angle. She placed them slowly and methodically, making sure they were firmly secured. She knew the roof intimately—every weak point, every place that needed reinforcement.
