The village depended on the bog for two primary products, both taking millennia to produce. Dead and decomposed plants waited for them to harvest as turf, which they turned into compressed peat blocks. Dead and reanimated animals came for them to reap as boglings, which they turned into supple and strong leather.
Hunters usually patrolled the edges of the mire, catching the boglings as they emerged from the acidic waters of the bog. Occasionally however, a quick hare or sneaky fox would slip past the patrols, heading for the village to devour the living.
For nothing defines the dead better than their desire for life.
And even though they were still small animals, the bog transformed them, making them stronger, faster, and tougher. Worst of all, the dead do not die easily.
So when someone screamed, the villagers grabbed hoes, spades, and rakes–whatever long tool they had lying about–and swarmed towards the noise. If a bogling got loose among the children, the results would be disastrous. But as they arrived at the screaming, they stood dumbfounded, not expecting a little girl crouched over a little boy.
“I-I-I didn’t mean it!” Renalia shouted, as the adults formed a half ring around them, gathered like they were witnessing a climatic scene from a play. She reached for Shim, but not knowing whether to turn or lift him, her hands hovered and shook around him. She wished Granny had not left; Granny would have known what to do.
“Shim, I didn’t mean it.” Shim had stopped screaming, but he grimaced and turned his head, not meeting her eyes. Somehow, that simple gesture hurt her more than her physical injuries. “Please, I don’t know what to do.”
Myfanwy squeezed past the wall of onlookers, and said without looking back, “Geordie and Donaldson with me.” The two men she had just pushed past followed along.
“Hang in there, Shim,” Myfanwy said, “everything will be alright”. She parceled out some numbingweed powder on a piece of paper. “Geordie, waterskin.”
Renalia sat back, hugging her knees. Myfanwy took charge of administering to Shim and, some time later, Chief Cian went around interviewing witnesses.
“The facts of the matter are thus,” Chief Cian said. “Renalia had lunged at Shim, causing both of them to fall and the latter to break his arm. As neither of them deemed it necessary to explain the original incident”–he frowned at both of them–“I find Renalia solely at fault.” No one spoke, but many among the crowd nodded in agreement.
“And so, my recommendations are thus. Renalia is to minister to Shim, as Myfanwy directs. Additionally, for the length of his recovery plus one week, Renalia is to stay with the Ongock’s, taking over all of his chores and responsibilities.”
“No!” Renalia and Shim’s father shouted at the same time. He briefly glanced at her, then addressed Chief Cian. “She hurt my son. And now I’m supposed to house and feed her?”
“Her family will reimburse you for the food, Malchim. But you will house her and treat her as a guest. I do not think Renalia will shirk her duties, but you can inform us if she does.”
Shim’s father seemed to accept, though a frown still creased his face. Shim, standing next to him with his arm in a splint, still looked pained but offered no response. Renalia had her own objections, though. “I can’t leave my family. I–”
“No, Renalia,” Papa said from behind her. “You’ve wronged Shim and must make it right. When you incur a debt, you must pay it back.”
Chief Cian glanced between the two families. “This is only my recommendation, of course. If either family disagrees, we will need to involve the Bailiff.”
Renalia kept silent, as the mention of the Bailiff brought a note of finality to the conversation. While Chief Cian held no official position, the villagers valued and respected his wisdom. On the other hand, the Bailiff was an unknown quantity. He may very well punish everyone for making him trek out here and deal with such a trivial matter.
Renalia leaned against the fence outside of the Ongocks’ cottage, catching her breath. The vapors from her breath formed a fog cloud around her, faster than the wind could dissipate. She had finished both her own and Shim’s shift for Manor Day, staying after most had left. She had rushed here in the dark of night, heeding Papa’s warning to obey and not anger Shim’s father, Malchim. It was late, and she did not know when the Ongocks’ would go to bed.
She gathered her courage and knocked softly on the door. It yielded a crisp tat-tat, instead of the hollow phap-phap she was used to. After a while–long enough that she debated whether she should knock again–Shim opened the door a crack. Seeing her, he held a finger to his lips and opened the door wider to let her in. The cottage blanketed her in light and heat through the doorway.
The front door opened into the kitchen and dining hall. The kitchen ran along the right wall, every inch covered with counters, cabinets, or pans hanging on hooks. An imposing clay oven bisected the wall. It faced the fireplace at the opposite end of the house, engaged in their nightly competition to provide warmth. Small bundles of blankets around the hearth declared a clear winner.
Renalia stood at the edge of the doorway, eyeing the pristine wooden planks that lined the floor. The Church had a wooden floor too. But the worshippers had long since sanded down the boards underfoot, such that the seams were no longer discernible. It never occurred to her that people’s houses also had wooden floors.
“Well,” Shim whispered, “what are you waiting for?” Noticing her toes in their nervous twitching, he sighed. “Oh, for Heaven’s sake.” He pointed at her feet and the accumulated dirt from the day’s work flew off. Her mouth gaped, shocked equally at finding out Shim had the same card as Mama and at seeing a boy doing what she always thought of as women’s work.
She hid her eyes behind her bangs as she walked past him, doubly embarrassed now that he knew the source of her embarrassment for standing there. She should have walked in like she belonged, tracking dirt all over the place. They can make me stay here, but they can’t make me–no, Papa said to be nice.
Once in the kitchen, she turned in place while looking around, amazed both by its spaciousness and the amount of cookware it contained. Her whole hut could fit in the kitchen. And why would any family need more than one pot? She quickly recovered and pretended she was trying to find some water to mix Shim’s pain medication with.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
They didn’t speak much while she prepared the herbal mixture, nor when he drank it. Afterwards, he pointed to one of the two open piles of straw, and they joined the other three bundles around the hearth. Renalia had never slept around so many people, nor felt so alone.
Renalia woke and performed her usual morning tasks in a new household. Or, at least, she tried to. But she suffered a solid defeat as the drawers and cabinets conspired together to prevent her from finding anything. Her fumbling woke Shim, who directed her to prepare the oatmeal their way–with lots of fruits and nuts.
She marveled at the clay oven. It contained the flames and allowed her to maneuver more freely. And it focused the heat, cooking the oatmeal faster than she expected. So simple, and yet, such an improvement over the wild, uncontrolled fire pit.
“Acceptable,” he said, tasting it when she finished. “Grab a bowl.” He filled it up and handed it back to her. Leaning the ladle against the pot, he stretched his right hand out and curled his fingers slightly. An empty bowl from the table flew into his hand. While filling it, he told her, “You can start eating. We do not need to wait for the others.”
Renalia pondered the oatmeal, almost twice the size of what she usually had. Is all of this for breakfast? That can’t be right, especially since we didn’t prepare lunch. But why did Shim ladle lunch out into the bowl instead of leaving it in the pot? Is it to clean the pot after breakfast? But they have so many pots. Oh, maybe–
“Is something wrong? Why aren’t you eating?” Shim asked, sitting opposite her at the table.
“Oh, I was just wondering about the leftovers.”
“What leftovers?”
“You know, for lunch.”
“Wow, you really are poor.” Renalia flushed, shame and anger rising in equal measure. She opened her mouth for a quick retort, but Shim raised a hand to forestall her. “I didn’t mean it that way. Um, we have dried jerky for lunch. This is breakfast.”
Renalia stuffed the oatmeal in her mouth. She hoped that keeping it busy with chewing would prevent her from making more stupid comments. She had been so close to saying something nasty about Shim’s mom. She would be nice, like Papa told her to, but Shim always brought out the worst in her. Stupid boy.
Shim’s younger siblings woke up and joined them. They all spoke in hushed tones, not wanting to disturb their father. Renalia assumed he slept in one of the two rooms at the back of the cottage.
The youngest, a girl about six named Minnie, asked, “Are you our new Mommy?”
Renalia choked and sputtered. “Ah, no. I’m Shim’s”–she fumbled for a word but could not find anything suitable–”friend.” It left an unpleasant taste in her mouth, ruining the nuts she had been munching on.
“No, you’re not,” said Marcy, the oldest Ongock girl at age nine. “Shim only has boy friends.” She squinted at Renalia. “You’re that little girl Shim talks about all the time.”
Now it was Shim’s turn to choke and sputter. “I do not!” He talks about me?
“Ah,” said Sammy, the younger brother after Marcy, “the tiny girl without any friends.”
“Alright guys,” Shim started saying, “that’s enough–”
But at the same time, Marcy winked at Minnie and said, “Not a Mommy, but maybe we’re getting a new sister.”
Minnie’s face lit up, and she whispered a soft “yay” while Sammy whined, “But I don’t want another sister.”
One of the doors in the back flung open. “What’s all this ruckus?” Shim’s father, Malchim, shouted. He stumped heavily into the room, squeezing his brows with a hand.
“Sorry, sir,” the kids around Renalia said in unison. She almost followed suit, but it would have sounded weird after everyone had already said it.
Shim’s father pointed at her. “You, get me some breakfast.” As he sat down, he continued, “You’ll clean up after we finish. And after that, you’ll fetch me a bogling.”
Renalia froze at the pot, uncertain how to respond.
“She just got her deck,” Shim said, “and she doesn’t know how to hunt.”
Malchim slammed a palm down on the table, causing Renalia to nearly drop the bowl she was carrying over. “Was I talking to you, boy?”
“No, sir. Sorry, sir.” The other kids sat motionless and silent, staring intently at their oatmeal, some of which had spilled onto the table.
“That’s right. She knows how to fight. Broke your arm, didn’t she?” He sneered and snatched his bowl of oatmeal from Renalia, who stood frozen nearby. “Go catch a bogling later and don’t come back until you do.”
“Yes, sir,” she whispered softly. Oh my God, he means to kill me.
Renalia followed Shim outside after she finished cleaning up. She labored to keep up with Shim’s purposeful steps. “Shim,” she said to his back, “I’m sorry I broke your arm. I was angry at you, but I never meant to hurt you.”
“It’s okay,” he replied without turning. “I know it was an accident. I’m sorry about what I said about your mother. She’s a nice lady and I can tell she loves you.” He stopped in front of the kennel.
“Yeah,” she said to his back, “I’m sorry about your brother leaving. I didn’t … ” She paused, struggling and failing to find the right words. However, she knew no words that captured the enormity of the situation. Her world had always contained a loving Papa and a loving Mama. “I didn’t know.”
“Yeah.” He reached for the kennel door, but held on to it instead of opening it, as if for support.
She almost reached for him, but did not understand how to help. “Why don’t you run away also?”
“I can’t,” he answered, hanging his head. “Not until I can take them with me.”
“Oh.” Their conversation weaved through a delicate landscape, stepping close to various emotional quicksand. But Renalia deliberately refrained from using her cards, saving them for the bogling hunt. Plus, Granny had said not to ignore her emotions. She just wished it wasn’t this hard.
Shim turned to question her. “Why didn’t you run away? I’m sure, if you asked, Granny would have taken you with her. Away from this sad life.”
“No, I can’t abandon my parents. It’s-it’s different.”
“It was different for me too, before my mom died. Before my dad turned to drink … ” He looked so tired and sad that Renalia almost wished for the old Shim instead–the one that would laugh and hurl insults at her.
“You don’t understand, I owe them.”
“Owe them? We don’t owe them anything! Our parents gave birth to us, but that doesn’t mean they own us.”
In response to Shim's raised voice, a dog whined from behind the kennel's door. “Ah, never mind,” Shim said as he opened the kennel door. “Meet Boogie, he’ll help you track down the boglings.”
A large wolfhound bounded out. It had shaggy gray and brown fur and stood tall enough to look her in the eye. “Boogie, meet Renalia.” Boogie “met” her by sticking his nose directly into the nook of her neck and licking upward on her face.
It tickled fiercely and Renalia laughed, losing her stability and sliding down to the ground. Boogie followed, sticking his wet nose at her unprotected side. Renalia squealed with delight and Boogie jumped back, only to lunge forward again when she quieted down.
And so Renalia discovered the magic of a dog’s tongue, powerful enough to wipe away all negative emotions.