“I don’t want them!” she screams
“Can you make a trip to the well please?” says my mother, it isn’t a request. Grudgingly I wipe the sleep from my eyes, dress, and embrace the morning breeze, leaving the war zone behind me.
The sun temporarily blinding me, Avlym eventually comes into focus, already bustling with morning activity. Silence is filled by the rustling of leaves and the tips of the distant surrounding trees sway ever so slightly.
I have barely moved down the well-worn track when I am greeted by a slowly shambling hunched figure. The individual grins at me, an effort comprising of only a couple of remaining defiant teeth.
“Morning Ida,” I force myself to return her smile.
“Age is a very high price to pay for maturity,” the elder exclaims, and then continued on her way, resuming her incoherent muttering, a familiar sound to all in the village. She is a brilliant lady and I can’t begin to fathom the amount of knowledge that must be in that head of hers, though if anyone will ever decipher her seemingly random gabble I haven’t the faintest idea. Either way, there is a distinct possibility that she will outlive the lot of us, perhaps future generations will stand a chance.
The rest of the walk passes largely without incident. Cecilia gives me the usual suspicious scowl as she sweeps crumbs and dust out of the bakery doorway. Ruth is having her daily shouting match with Bennie for the morning as she forces him to clean up the puke-covered tavern wall, a result of his regular lack of evening discipline. From the dazed look in his eyes and his constantly wavering balance, she should consider herself lucky if he doesn’t add to the mess.
Ten minutes later, I heave up the last bucket from the old well, water sloshing gently over the sides as I set it down. I have begun readying myself for the laborious trek back when horribly familiar voices sound behind me. Casually glancing over one shoulder I spot the pitiful group approaching, unfortunately, it would seem they have also already spotted me.
“Morning, Spawn!” the fattest of the group bellows. Rhys is an unpleasant sight to behold, a fool suffering from an insatiable greed that has led to his immense size. His thin long straw-coloured hair is plastered over an expansive forehead almost reaching the first of several chins.
Spawn was his own creation, a play on the belief that I am marked demon-spawn. An opinion shared by his mother Cecilia. The boy had grown up in the bakery and it would seem as though he had spent enough time around dough that he has begun to resemble it.
His cronies snigger behind him, close as always. They are both morons. Landen is the taller of the two, only following Rhys as a means to his sadistic ends, whereas Harvey is with him more to avoid becoming a victim himself, for if I had not been born it would surely be him who would bear the brunt of Rhys’ torture.
“Hi Rhys,” I reply, anxious to avoid any longer in the group’s company than is necessary.
“Cursed anyone yet?”, another of his timeless favourites, apparently, he has already reached a level of boredom in such early hours that he needs my punishment as an escape. My pain never fails him as one of his favourite pastimes. The line is so old that I don’t even bother to respond, instead turning my back to pick up the full buckets.
Definitely a mistake.
“What? Think you’re too good for us humans? Hey prick, we’re talking to you!” he shoves me roughly in the back, putting little of his weight behind it but it’s enough. Stumbling, water sloshes down the front of my trousers and onto the ground below, turning the floor into mud. I twist to the side as the ground shifts beneath me, narrowly avoiding my chin on the pile of stones surrounding the well. My shoulder collides with it instead, knocking off a few of the less stable rocks.
Furiously, I turned to the obnoxious lump behind me as I struggle to keep my footing over the now soft ground and loose stones. This of course only leads to further mockery and heat rises to my cheeks.
“Ohhhh damn Rhys you’ve done it now!” Harvey yapps gleefully “He’s gonna get his little tree sprites on you!” They all guffaw at that.
“Leave him alone Rhys,” a new voice commands. I bow my head, wondering if this morning could possibly get off to a worse start.
Robyn strides towards us. She is a couple of inches shorter than myself, with unnaturally leafy green eyes and chestnut hair that cascades over slim shoulders.
She is absolutely beautiful.
I feel the colour in my cheeks evolve into an even deeper shade and my eyes dart to the floor in shame. Thankfully she seems to take no notice, choosing instead to focus on the pathetic batch in front of her. She glowers at the hulking boy with the ferocity of a lioness, he of course is first to drop his gaze, his lackies having immediately stopped in their support and backing off slightly.
Rhys shifts from the new arrival and returns his attention to me, to my immense shame I note that this is because I am the easier target.
“Need protecting much?” he smirks. “Next time, asshole.” I glare back at him as best I can, false defiance trying to regain at least some of my dignity. With one last look of contempt at the both of us he turns and waddles away, the other two dutifully at his heels.
“I don’t need anyone to protect me,” I say, puncturing the long silence that had ensued as Robyn had helped me refill my buckets. We had been forced to steady each other on the now slippery surface.
“I know,” she comments. I study her, trying to tell
