The beating of dust out in the early afternoon broke the whispers of the trees and nature.
The not too blazing fiery sun shone down on the sweaty figure using dry leaves to dust an olden wooden chair.
Her expression was neutral, having no trace of any emotions at all. Just duly concentrating on her work to get it done as quickly and fine as she could.
Rosalie used the branch of dry leaves to wipe away the leftover dust on the stands of the wooden chair.
Breath light and face straight. Absolutely nothing on her mind but her work which was given to her.
The moment she raised her head up since she was done, her eyes bulged out from their sockets in horror.
The first thing she did was to look at the direction of the house entrance.
When she saw no one, the dead branch in her hand immediately landed on the floor and she took hurried steps but made quiet footsteps forward.
