As the days passed, the rumors grew darker. Some claimed she was trying to protect herself from evil forces.
Others said it was some kind of bizarre renovation. The boldest insisted she had started a cult inside her own home.
“No normal person would do that to a roof,” people muttered outside the village shop.
“It’s all sharp, like a trap. Just looking at it makes your skin crawl.”
What no one noticed was the care behind her work. She chose every single stake herself, using only dry, solid wood.
She sharpened each one at a precise angle. She installed them slowly and methodically, making sure each piece was firmly secured.
She knew her roof intimately—every weak spot, every place that needed extra reinforcement.
