Rain and Drought by Cirth

Chapter 4

He hides the cuts and the purple bruises beneath long sleeves, even in the hot season. The village boys do not spare a word he says or a gesture he makes. They grip his arm painfully and hiss, "Are you a girl? Did your parents want a daughter so badly that you act like one? Huh?"

Ulfast asks why he never hits back. His mother merely shakes her head when he insists that he trips and falls a lot.

One day, while playing on the banks of the rapidly drying river that runs through their village, Ulfast steps on his favourite toy – a delicate wolf carved of ash wood – and breaks it. Uldor crouches down, wipes his tears with his thumbs, and says, "You can have my tunic – the one you take from my drawer and play dress-up in."

The village boys laugh at him, clapping their hands over their cheeks and pretending to swoon. "You'd make a perfect mother!"

***

"Uldor," says his mother, "hang out the washing."

Uldor stops kicking his leather ball around and looks at her. A couple of the village boys are lurking nearby, grinning, arms crossed over their chests. Uldor glances at them, then at the basket of wet clothes and the horizontal ropes. His fingers twitch, and he licks his dry lips.

Then, taking a deep breath, he goes over to the basket and begins to clip the wet clothes to the ropes.