Awinita danced up the paved street, practicing the new steps her teacher had just taught her. “Don’t you love this place,” she shouted as she and Jonas strode past the multi-story stone buildings that lined the streets of Tsuwa’tel’da.
“Yes,” Jonas answered without enthusiasm as he stared at the English houses and their porches, roofs, and shingles. “I don’t miss home at all.”
Awinita stopped turning and spinning and smiled knowingly at her brother. “We’re Tsiligi, Jonas. If it’s better, we make it ours. Even the Nunnehi do this.”
“Besides,” she laughed, “Warm houses and real feather beds are nice.”