The sickle he wielded was slightly too big for his small hands. With practiced movements, he cut down a handful of wheat and put it in a neat pile, with all the heads at one end to pick it up later.
The mid-day sun surely was not making the job any easier. Tal wiped the sweat off of his brow, pushed back his brown locks from his face, and continued working alone, just like he had done this whole week. At least the hard work made him momentarily forget about everything else.
A large owl, invisible to the world, was sitting on a branch of the nearest tree, watching the scrawny ten years old boy working, only moving its head to follow the young human's movements. A large black crow, just as unseen, landed next to it and asked with a smooth feminine voice. “Why are you watching this creature of flesh?”
The owl turned its head to face the crow, asking with a lower but very gentle voice, “Am I not allowed to do so?”
“It’s easier to squeeze a cup of water out of a stone than get a straight answer out of you.” the crow remarked in a dry tone.
“I wonder why you didn't take this one as well.”
“Is there anything particular about him?” the crow asked and glanced at the boy who worked on, unaware of the two observers.
“No, he is just like the many others your work has left alone to pick up the pieces.”
“I do not weave the threads of fate, only follow them.”
“Not always.” the owl said with a melodic chuckle.
“You would do well to not stick your nose in my work.” the crow said and puffed up her feathers.
“I cannot help but know these things.” the owl said, turning his attention to the boy again, “Have you come to take away the last from him?”
“Not yet, but soon.”
“Your work is as cruel as it is merciful, my dear friend.” the owl said, slowly fading away.
“And yours is as cryptic as it is annoying,” the crow answered to no one in particular, spread her wings, and flew off.
Tal meanwhile just worked tirelessly. He should have taken a break when the sun was at its highest, but with no help, he couldn't hope to harvest it all if he didn’t work as much as possible.
After a few more hours, he couldn’t ignore his body’s protests any longer and sat down under a tree, taking out his dinner, which consisted of a large piece of bread with a bowl of porridge, a piece of dried meat, and a small, leather pouch with water.
The moment his body didn’t scream for food anymore, his eyelids started to become heavy. Not wanting to give in to the sleep, he jumped up and resumed his work. ‘I can’t sleep now, I have to work.’ he reminded himself.
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Only when the setting sun had almost disappeared did he stop the daily work and walk towards the house at the end of the field. The small wooden building was his and his family's home, or at least what little had left of his family.
Just like yesterday, he stopped at the five stones laid out in a row in front of the humble cottage. The boy teared up and walked past them after uttering a brief prayer, though this one was filled with vitriol. The burial pyres for his mother and youngest brother were something he needed to gather alone. After all, his father had grown too weak at that point.
‘Gods take what they must.’ the priest had said. Each time Tal had seen the man he was another shade paler. The plague didn’t spare most homes, and no matter how much the followers of Gods wished to help, they could simply not heal everyone.
“It’s not fair. What did we do wrong?” Tal mumbled through tears. The closer he got to the house the more dread filled him. What if his father was already gone as well? Why were the Gods so cruel to him? He had prayed for good health and a good harvest. He, together with his family, had left offerings for them. As a reward for their faith, they send a plague.
‘No, dad will get better. He has to. He will get better.’ Tal wiped away his tears and opened the wooden doors to the central room. Everything was just like he had left it in the morning. The fireplace was unlit, the simple furnishings stood in their places. The eerie silence was the only one meeting him. Tal lit the big candle on the table and went to his parents' room.
A thin man with a grayish complexion and sunken eyes was laying on the bed. Tal glanced at the small table beside the bed. The bowl with food was still full.
“F-father?” he asked quietly.
“Tal, son, how was your day? Did you manage to harvest enough?” the man asked with a whisper.
“Yes…” Tal said, picking up the bowl from the table and trying to hand it to his father. “Y-you have to eat. It's still good.”
The man slowly turned to face his son with glassy eyes “I’m proud of you. We will watch over you. Your mom, your brothers, and sister, we all will watch over you.”
“Dad, you will make it, please!” Tal teared up again.
“Be strong, my boy. I know you will make us all proud.” the man said, slumping back down on his back. “I will sleep now. You should get some sleep too.”
“Goodnight.” Tal said as he slowly left the room. For a moment he stood behind the door as the tears fell. Those were goodbyes, he already knew his father would not wake up.
That night the last of his family died. The cruel world took everything from him five years ago. The nightmare returned to him again and again, not giving him any peace, even when asleep.
Tal got out of his small straw bed with a sigh, mentally preparing for another long day. How much he hated to relive the scene in his dreams.
Editing - Edgy
Proofreading - placid_void
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