"Okay, ladies—I think we're all set!" Isabella beamed, holding up a clay gourd capped with woven bark and sealed with thick sap.
A cluster of women sat before her, eyes wide, heads tilted like curious birds. Their dark hair was woven in thick braids, some adorned with feathers, shells, or simple beads made from seeds. Most were crouched or cross-legged, fidgeting excitedly with their own makeshift soap gourds.
Isabella stepped aside, gesturing toward a basket of materials. "So remember—scrape a little beesap into the gourd, seal it tight, then hang it up from your ceiling beams using vine rope. That way, the soap stays upright and dry. No dirt. No bugs. No curious lizards licking it while you sleep."
A few women gasped, murmuring to one another in hushed voices. One smacked the side of her leg like she just realized why her last gourd mysteriously disappeared.
Isabella smiled wider.
