3
Juliet
Four nights later, we all gathered on the other side of the mountain for the feast. As night crept over the fields, the full moon hung low in the sky, big and round and golden.
“Harvest moon,” Sage said, traipsing from Laurel’s large hearth to the great bonfire nestled down the hill.
“Hunter’s moon,” Hazel corrected and set a platter of shiny braided bread down on a rough hewn plank that acted as a table.
“Honey Moon,” Laurel said without thinking and flushed when her friends giggled. Her figure was as lush as ever, her belly starting to curve under her full breasts.
I smiled at her and the others. I was older than these four, but we’d grown up together in the orphanage. They were the only sisters I’d known. “I hear that we will expect more than one babe after winter. Laurel
