Bleston finally found his brothers outside in the garden staring intently down at a bare spot of earth. Ivan’s sleeves were rolled up past his elbows- “Of course they were,” Bles thought with an inward frown - crouched down and tentatively poking at the dirt between his feet. Jupie squated nearby, hands on his knees, watching closely every move. “What in the blue hills are you two doing?” Bles asked, shifting his grip on the book under his arm and placing his right hand up on his hip. “Pokin’ the dirt.” Jupie replied, not taking his eyes off Ivan’s hand for one second. “Why?“ Jupie wordless shrugged, jumping slightly in alarm when Ivan’s finger finally made rapid contact with the dirt. Bleston shook his head. When did anything they did make sense?
