A widow in her thirties, despised by villagers, walked in the trail across the forest, carrying a pot she knew would break after two or three more fetching of water. Barefoot, she sundered on the dry path. Pointy pebbles didn’t prick her heels as her feet were immune to those.

Being a woman who had lost her husband over an unknown illness, her feet had no comfort of wearing sandals. After this many years, she didn’t need it anyway. Seeing her wearing sandals would bring questions rather than being barefoot. Widows keeping their heels unoccupied was an unwritten rule being followed from so long that it had turned itself into a strict rule.

Top of the castle got visible once she got past the sky layered by branches. Even the queens living in the lavishness of the palace were forbidden from wearing shoes after demise of the king. In the land where even queens were not immune to the tradition, she was nobody to retaliate. If something was to be retaliated about then it would have been the discrimination she was facing every day.

Getting water from the public well of village along with normal women had become an issue among elder women. Since then, she had been fetching water in the middle of the day when less people were around. Her feet would redden due to heat most of the time. It had happened last day too.

Every day wasn’t the same. There were good days like today but she didn’t show any gratitude to the calm ground. Hunger cold take gratefulness out of many things.

She stopped, looked around herself twice and ran to the bushes. She took out a rectangular cloth from her waist and began putting fallen dates over it. She did it quickly, not looking at the ground and just by letting her touch decide everything about their quality.

The woman picked a ripe date and took a bite of it.

She spit it. She couldn’t keep it in her mouth for it was rotten. Widow selected rotten dates and threw it away. She picked the rawest fruit then sank her teeth in it.

Rotten again.

How can it be raw and rotten at the same time? She took none of them and paced for the well.

The trial didn’t have anybody. Not even children climbing on trees or kicking pebbles. She watched the yellowish sky having no bird exploring it width. She kept spitting to remove bitterness from her taste buds.

She ignored the taste which wouldn’t leave her mouth when she heard tramps. They were familiar to her. And the man guiding those tramps too. She hadn’t taken more than ten steps when a herd of cows passed her path.

In the end of the row was a shepherd whipping the slowest cow.

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"Didn’t know why my cattle were becoming impatient." Shepherd said, "They must have felt your filthy presence."

"What a shame. Animals these days run away from a widow instead of a butcher." She said.

"You would starve to death if I weren’t raising these animals. Their friendliness towards me should delight you."

She walked, leaving the shepherd behind.

"Killed the fattest animal this morning. Have got an intestine leftover." Shepherd crackled.

She gave him a snarl which he did not bother acknowledging existence of.

The widow walked faster than before. Not only had she wanted the well to be unoccupied but also wanted to get past thecemetery as soon as possible. She kept her eyes ahead but corner of her eye begged to squint, at right, to the tombstone visible through the gate.

Tombstone was big and fresh flowers lay under it. Grave of her husband was in far corner of the cemetery but her grief flew towards the grave of her elder sister.

"Sorry for a late visit, Eryne." She sobbed, "Since you have left, I don’t get to eat full stomach. Now, I have to feed myself off rats and frogs."

Something fell beside her from the nearest tree. She looked at ground and saw a cracked egg with yolk running out. Her sight followed the branch which had the nest.

A pigeon was pushing another egg to its fate.

It flapped wings as if it had avoided something unpleasant. The widow was unknown to the norms of avian. Brutality was a choice for some whereas a compulsion for others.

Resuming her walk, she saw many other birds choosing side of brutality towards their own offspring. Every tree inhabited with birds had broken eggs near their roots. She had found some intact eggs but she did not dare picking them.

The well was in her way. Feeling uneasy, she ran to the well and threw bucket in it. She pulled the rope after hearing water occupy its volume. She pulled the water from depths of darkness.

Water was muddy and smelled of excrements. Worms wriggling madly at the bottom of bucket as if looking for an escape. One of those slimy creatures made it to the rim of bucket and threw itself into the well.

Her eyes followed it as the worm submerged inside the violent water. Water rumbled inside the pot like it was being boiled. Thousands of worms had come to the surface of water, leaving the places they used to clump up together in.

While her heart looked from an escape from her chest, she heard tramps she could recognize. She couldn’t believe she was happy to sense the shepherd near him.

She spun backwards on her heels.

A herd of beasts in number of thousands charged at her.