Blake savored the last morsel of the antelope meat, a subtle detail crossed his mind. The last time they had met by the oak tree, their conversation had been interrupted by a man in search of Nana. Despite Nana's instructions to hide behind the bushes, Blake couldn't help but overhear snippets of their conversation. He remembered them mentioning something about a festival, and the curiosity lingered in his mind.
Setting down his clay plate, Blake cleared his throat, catching Nana's attention. "Hey, Nana," he began tentatively, "I couldn't help but overhear last time... about the festival you mentioned. What's it about?"
Nana's expression softened as she regarded Blake with a hint of surprise. "Ah, the festival," she replied, a nostalgic gleam in her eyes. "It's a celebration that our village holds every year, honoring our ancestors and the spirits of the land. It's a time for feasting, dancing, and storytelling."
