Calek stood there, in the pouring summer rain. Her lungs wheezing after the fresh cold air while her tears melted together with the rain down her face. Both the brim of the nightgown and her feet were muddied with soil and it was freezing. She wasn’t sure how far she had run but since the sense of smell and hearing wasn’t entirely washed away by the rain, she guessed was probably was near the old water mill.

The river was rushing down just a few feet in front of her. Since the rainy season had started, it had increased it size by at least 6 yards (5,5 m) just this week. It was to the point that it was too dangerous to stay nearby. Standing a long the banks there she hoped that both the cleric’s and the old crones’ houses could be taken along with the mud. Then some of the pain could go away.

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Earlier that week, Calek and her siblings passed by the crop field to get some goods from the marked. Their mother was short on vegetables, so she tossed her children out to get some for the month. The fields weren’t huge, but large enough to fill proximity fifty people throughout the year, if rationing was managed carefully. Every day will one can see some of the farmers tending to it throughout the summer before the harvest comes. Then half of the villagers would help the farmers to harvest and if one were lucky, get one produce extra for the help.   

As usual Calek was holding hands with her twin sister as they walked along the tracks. The youngest sister and the older brother were chatting about what their grandmother had thought them yesterday about the different medical herbs there was at the coast side, while Calek was silently listening. Or spacing out.

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“Hey kids! There is a big rainfall coming in in a few days. Don’t wander to close to the river when it does.”  

“Oh, please do. Then we don’t have to waste more of our stock on you, mutts.”

 Calek’s brother stopped, causing his younger siblings to halt in their tracks casing her to snap back in attention. Her big brother glared at the person the insult came from. Her youngest sister let go of Caleks hand and hid behind her big brother back.    

“You! Stop talking. Go clean up the weed piles.”

The old farmer barked at a younger man. The young man was about to protest, but the farmers sickle was fast up at his nephew’s face. The young man hesitated, before he started grumbling and scooped a large bunch off of the large weed piles and headed for the wheelbarrow.   

“Don’t mind my nephew. He’s from the other county. It’s really rare for him to see kinds like you there. You guys heading to the market?”

“Yeah”, Calek said, looking away.

“Could you tell Marge, you know, the one who will be selling yarn, that me and Gordaf’s going to be late for supper?”

The children nodded, and continued on their way. Her twin not hiding anymore, continued holding hands with Calek. Their brother was still glaring at the insulting mans back until they entered the orchard canopy. They smelled the sweet sent of peaches basking in the sun, though they were still some with the hints of green on them.  

 Not long after, the sound of the bustling marked could be heard.