DujinA pipe lets out a hissing sound, holds its breath for a moment, and then breathes again. Outside the door, a rounded mountain peak with a single soaring chimney is visible, and the sun is bright, but the wind is still wintery.
Dujin checks the pressure gauge in the tool pouch, readjusts the wrapped orange cloth, and turns around.
I'm not tightening this screw. The mountain needs a hole to sigh through, too.
Holding up the measurement chart and ruler, Dujin winks one eye.
I'm going to measure twenty-two wind holes today, but I don't have anyone to hold the ruler. Want to come along? Or tell me why you came here first. I'll tell you the names of these hissing kids on the way.