The Reaping

The Reaping Chapter Two

He put his hands on his hips and let out another chuckle. "What do you mean you can smell me, Miss Adela Jane?" He had a habit of using the word miss in front of my name. I couldn't remember how it started or why, but I didn't mind. It made me feel special when he said it.

"You have a distinct smell. Perhaps it's the soap you use to clean your clothes or on your skin when you...." I left off because the conversation started going in a direction where a respectable young woman shouldn't discuss such things with a polite young man.

"I better go." I walked around him, but he fell into step beside me. Embarrassed, I kept my face down.

His arm brushed mine. A pleasant shiver floated down my back. "I've come back from seeing Nonnie. We chatted and ate a few pieces of cobbler. It's cherry. She gave me my own to take home." I pulled the dish in closer to my chest as I glanced up at him from the corner of my eye.

"I love your grandmother's cooking." He rubbed his palms together in glee.

I glared at him in mocked indignation and clutched the undamaged cobbler. "Don't get any ideas. This dessert is mine."

He grabbed my arm in a loose grip and I stopped. We almost reached the edge of the clearing, near the lane to my home. "How about one piece? I can work for it."

I would have said yes regardless but I wanted to tease him a bit. "How will you work for it?" I asked with a cheeky grin.

He knew I would agree. He gave me a huge smile that always made me want to hold my stomach to stop it from fluttering. "I can help you take down your laundry and swipe your house and circle the grass for you."

These two options were very appealing since I was due for a good swipe and circle.

"Fine. I accept." I held out my hand for him to shake.

He didn't shake my hand but placed his finger on my ear lobe and gave it a light caress. Our eyes met, but, before I stammered out something foolish, he took the pan from my hands and linked my arm around his to take me home.

I felt off center and, later, could barely remember the walk home. More often than not his small touches made me lightheaded. From the brief, amused looks he gave me, I think he knew.

*********

The swipe and circle tradition had been handed down to each generation as the only defense against the mist from entering your home and killing you. This process must be done every few weeks with a broom or long brush covered in a mixture of vinegar, salt, and sheep's blood. It was then wiped or swiped on the outside of the house. One circled the house and painted it until it stained. The next step was to pour a bucket of this mixture on the ground, in a circle around the property for extra precaution. The mist couldn't pass that circle or enter a house or building once this procedure was complete.

Where this decree came from, and why it worked, was a mystery. The tradition was as old as Romanknah had been in existence along with the surrounding villages and towns. Every library kept a record of the past, and this particular task couldn't be ignored. Ignorance would kill you. From the time a child understood how lethal the mist was, they learned the swipe and circle was their one and only defense.

I should feel sorry for the monthly slaughter of the sheep raised for the sole purpose of saving many human lives, but better us than them. Animals didn't fear the mist. They were used and controlled by this evil vapor but left virtually untouched afterward. We were punished because we killed them to stay safe. And I was a selfish person, glad we had one defense against such evil. I didn't want to think what life would be without this protection. There would be no life to speak of.