“Shiny, shiny little flower,” sang a little child named Hannah, whose curly red ringlets shone in the sunshine. Her stomach rumbled. She had not had her porridge for breakfast. Her family was all out of food, as was most of Seaside Village. The villagers did not lock the doors of their houses, and instead all the villagers locked their gold in the village tower. Three nights before, a landslide had rumbled down the foothill, leaving a great mountain of earth blocking the villagers from getting to their gold.

The tower was made of smooth granite with seven foot-thick walls. The only way in now was one long, narrow window forty feet in the air. No one could climb the tower, although many young men and women of the village had tried all day. For three days and nights, all the villagers had worked to shift half the earth away from the door. Even Hannah had carried dirt in her pail. No one had had any time for fishing, and everyone in the village was exhausted and hungry. The tax collector was due the very next day.

The elders were meeting, and Hannah could hear a lot of shouting.

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