The more I wandered the village with my brothers, the more I met the anger and fear that bristled against my family.

  I followed them whenever I had the chance. Anytime they were out of my sight, I ran towards the rest of the clan to see if they were heading back to the Meadow, where the redheads flared across the flat fields.

  In Upe’s garden, they were lying on their stomachs past the hill’s crest. I crept up there and crawled in between them until I came to their clasped hands. Akmuo’s fingers wriggled over Medis’ hand. I put mine on top of theirs and they both snapped their heads in my direction, hitting foreheads. I laughed but clasped my mouth shut. They looked terrified, then in pain, and then they exchanged those glances that were only meaningful to the two of them. Akmuo put a hand over his mouth and nodded. I nodded back, knowing to be quiet, and crawled towards them.

  They were staring down at Upe and Lapas talking in front of his door. He was smiling, leaning back onto his home. The angle of the hill kept him standing but at an angle that made him look careless. His smile was broad, revealing all his teeth. He had the whitest eyes. Even from as far as we were, his eyes stood out like moons in the night. Upe’s back was to us but she kept rubbing her neck, tugging at the stray hairs behind her ear. They were both naked but for towels around their genitals. Their bodies were dry, like they had returned from the river long ago.

  Every time Upe moved her arms I could see the bones of her back beneath her smooth skin. She was thin but not as thin as Lapas, who was almost skeletal. Upe’s neck was like a leaf stem holding up a great mound of hair. Typically, she had it braided elaborately. But she let it flow freely from her head and Lapas’ eyes were drawn up towards the hair towering over him.

  Lapas said something and she threw back her head in laughter. She cupped her breasts and moved them up and down, which got Lapas laughing. Then she tugged at his towel but he held it tight, his eyes now wide. He scanned the area with a panicked expression, but she kept pulling and laughing.

  Her voice carried to us, “I want to see if you’ve grown since the Meadow.”

  Akmuo and Medis’ eyes were wide, their mouths hanging open. I turned back to Lapas who smiled but kept his hands tight on the towel, keeping it on. He kept looking round and then his eyes found mine. They opened so wide and his lips made shapes but no sound.

  Finally, Upe let go and turned to where he looked.

  Akmuo and Medis pulled at me and we were already running, but I tripped over the raspberry bushes, scraping my legs on the thorns. My brothers came back for me and Akmuo lifted me up and carried me down the hill where I found my feet again. We didn’t run home but ran straight for the trees of the forest.

  If we could make it there, they wouldn’t be able to catch us.

  But they were adults and we were children. They caught us. Lapas stuttered curses, “Foul bitchlings. Wild little demonspawn! Wolfwitch shit!”

  But Upe just grabbed my brothers by the arms and dragged them first on top of her home. She grabbed them both at the back of the neck and pushed their heads down towards the trampled cabbage leaves. Her voice was sharp and raspy, “You gonna stomp up my food, huh? What if I stomp you up, huh?”

  My voice broke out of my mouth, “My mother will—”

  Lapas gripped me hard and Upe reeled towards me, “Your momma gonna what? Call down her wolfbitch powers and kill off the rest of these plants here? Starve me out? She gonna pay for it with her sweet wetness, like bottomboy Lapas here?”

  Lapas’ grip loosened on my arm. Her words stung him. Hurt him deep. Grabbed onto something close to his heart. But back then my thoughts were only on Upe. Her anger exploded to the surface and rained down on me.

  We were all silent then. My brothers and I. Akmuo’s hands wringing in constant motion. Medis quietly seething. And me, paralyzed. Rooted to the spot.

  “Come on, Lappy.” She grabbed my brothers and yanked them after her down the hill. Lapas picked me up and carried me behind her. He moved slow but his heart raced. His enthusiasm for this had fallen apart at her words.

  My mother stood when she saw us and her expression was hard. Akmuo and Medis ripped their arms free of Upe and ran towards her. She motioned with her head for them to keep going. HoPa came up behind her and my brothers clung to his huge legs. LoPa came and grabbed me from Lapas. His voice was quiet as he caressed my face, “It’s all right, little one.”

  My mother walked right up to Upe. Upe was taller than my mother but she seemed smaller. My mother’s body was relaxed and I could taste her desire for violence. Her heartbeat rippled through the air and reached me. It was calm, like waves lapping at a boat. A vein protruded from Upe’s forehead and she said, “Your little wildlings tore up my garden! How’m I meant to eat, huh? Got my cabbage and carrots and even raspberries all stomped and uprooted.”

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  My mother’s voice was flat, “We’ll help you through winter.”

  Upe crossed her arms, her weight pivoting to her left hip, “Don’t want your wolfmagic shit. I want you to keep these monsters,” her hand waved in our directions, “out my damn way, huh?”

  My mother looked briefly at Lapas who cowered under her glare, then brought her gaze back to Upe. “Go home, Upe.”

  Upe’s mouth became a tight circle as she shook her head, eyes wide, “Wolfbitch.”

  “Go home, Upe. I’ll deal with mine.” She turned and walked back towards HoPa, who was visibly grinding his teeth.

  Upe began backing up but her words became shouts, “Couldn’t pick a real man so you spread your legs for wolves, huh? They fill you up with demonspit and all your pussy gives out is little shits.” She spat at us, then in a fluid motion dripping with disgust, she put her palms to her cheeks and then slapped them forward, in our direction. “Your momma’d be ashamed of you, witchslut.” She turned and left us. Lapas, head down, followed her back to their homes so close together.

  HoPa’s gruff voice told us to sit round the firepit.

  We said nothing, just obeyed, even though there was no fire. The suns still shined high above. Three moons were faintly visible between them. A golden bird sang from the trees and its song was carried by a dozen other birds.

  The silence was oppressive. Our fathers stood and watched my mother who did her stretches. She had been exercising before this interruption and let us wait while she finished. HoPa crossed his arms and stared at the ground. LoPa hummed absently, looking everywhere but at us.

  When mother finished she sat across from us on the grass. Her legs crossed under her and her hands resting on her hips. Her gaze fell on each of us in turn. When they landed on me, I stared at the grass pressed flat against the ground by our constant walking. Her gaze was heavy and I held my breath and counted my heartbeats. The heartbeats I believed were my mother’s.

  Akmuo’s voice lilted towards a joke, “Lapas loves—”

  I looked up to see my mother holding up a hand. Akmuo shook, staring at the ground, his hands writhing over one another. My fathers walked away and left us to our punishment. Mother watched them go, her expression stern. They disappeared into the trees, LoPa wrapping his arm round HoPa.

  When she spoke it was with a smile, “Did you really uproot her raspberries?”

  Medis’ voice was flat, “She lied.”

  My mother nodded, “Her life has been hard.” Though she still smiled, her voice was breathy. “Upe was always beautiful but she’s talentless. As a warrior, as a hunter, and even as a lover. She threw herself at all of us when we were children but no one loved her. We found her annoying,” her smile broadened and she chuckled. “It made her bitter, though. She began lying. Always lying. She lied so much it became natural to her. Telling the truth was like making the river flow in the opposite direction.

  “That’s what happens. When you choose to do something, it becomes easier and easier to keep making that choice. When you’re kind to people, it becomes easy to be kind. When you’re cruel, you will always find it easier to be cruel than to be kind. Upe lied so often that she had to put real effort into not lying. She even lied to First Mother.”

  At this my brothers gasped, and I followed their example, though I didn’t understand the taboo.

  Mother nodded, her eyes sorrowful, “The old First Mother. She died before you were born. You would have loved her.” She swallowed hard and ran her hands over her cheeks. “She lied to First Mother not just once, but repeatedly. Eventually, First Mother discovered her lie and Upe’s family was punished. First they were moved closer to the forest. But this didn’t stop Upe. She kept lying and lying. Eventually, her family turned her out to save face.” Mother stopped for a moment and sighed. “That was a cruel thing to do. They turned their backs on her because she made life hard. That too was a choice they made. One they are now more likely to make again.

  “When they turned her out, Upe wandered round the clan, trying to steal away the LoPas of the clan. When confronted by First Mother, she lied again. First Mother gave her two options: to leave the clan or to live the rest of her days at the edge of the forest. Alone. Never to take a husband of her own or to have children fill her womb.”

  Mother stared off into the distance for a moment. “Do you understand why I’m telling you all this?” Her gaze fell heavily on each of us in turn once more.

  I swallowed but Akmuo said, “I’m sorry, mother.”

  Medis said, “We won’t do it again.”

  Mother’s expression softened to a smile. She came to us and sat down, pulling me into her lap and taking Medis and Akmuo’s hands. “Upe’s life has been hard, and it will remain hard. She is forced to be alone, which is the most severe punishment I’ve ever seen given. But First Mother did this to teach us all something. To teach us that we must respect one another. To break the trust of one is to make trust more difficult between us. Every action, every choice, sets you in motion to repeat that same action or make that choice again. One lie becomes a thousand lies. One kind word becomes a lifetime of encouragement. We decide who we will be with every action we take. We must care for each other. We are all one clan in a thousand bodies. We are all bound together, and to hurt one of us is to hurt all of us.

  “So when you destroyed her cabbage, you destroyed all of our cabbage. Even ours, here. Now we must help feed her. Not as punishment, but because her Death is the Death of all of us. If she goes hungry, we all go hungry. We must care for one another because we’re all we have in the world. We must love ourselves and each other.

  “Do you understand? She had to learn a lesson for all of us. Every day is a reminder to her and to all of us. She walks among us, alone, broken, because she is forced into isolation. She is forced to never share her life with husbands or children. It is a cruel lesson, but it’s one none of us will ever forget.”

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