For three nights in a row, my maid said the same thing in her sleep:
“It seems one of the chickens in the backyard is missing.”
I simply assumed she was exhausted from her daily chores and thought nothing of it.
That was until we encountered a landslide on our way to the Capital. My maid was killed in the disaster, but I was rescued by soldiers who arrived just in time.
Trembling and lost, I sought out the commanding officer, intending to reveal my true identity as the daughter of the Provincial Commander.
He glanced at the maid’s clothes I was wearing and suddenly asked:
“Are the hens still brooding lately?”