Tales of Ide

Part 1

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It’s raining. It’s been raining for days, making the work in the rice fields a more arduous activity. Still, they kept at it; having quotas to fill. The rice paddy terraces lined the marshy cliff sides of Ide, elevated over the salt spray of the ocean. Uda watched from a distance with mild disinterest, sheltered under the inconsistent foliage of windshook mangrove branches. He sat upon the slick roots protruding up through the ground and the flooded knee-deep water. Ide would flood six months out of the year, and during the other six, the seaside village would be smothered under a blanket of humidity.

No one in the village seemed to mind the perpetual state of oppressive moisture; except for young Uda. He found even breathing the muggy air torturous and avoided the outdoors as much as he could. He cursed his luck, for on this day his Grandfather, Boro, who was usually too preoccupied keeping the flame in the light-tower ablaze instead redirected his ire.
“God dammit boy, you’ve been inside for a fortnight! GO, take a stroll through the marshes, or help your Gran in the field! You insolent child! And I better not see your face again before nightfall.” Uda gazed up at him tiredly through his lashes, having the audacity to yawn and stretch as his grandfather's cheeks went red. He hadn’t even had the chance to put on his boots before being tossed out into the slick mud. 

Uda scowled, kicking his thin legs out. The tips of his toes dipping and causing ripples to spread and collide with taller blades of grass. He sighed, already feeling soaked to the bone. His tunic clung to his overly moist skin, and he could feel cold stray drops sliding down his spine. Uda shook his limp blonde hair out, much like an aggravated puppy. Beyond miserable, he even considered hiding out in the fishery, despite the horrid smell.

So caught up in his woes he failed to notice the slow approach of a lone bamboo raft; it’s occupier paddling steadily through the light rain, protected beneath a wide kasa. Uda stood, determined to find a drier sanctuary. He grasped the branches above him, balancing as he scurried along the uneven roots, searching for a shallower spot to begin his footing. As the bamboo raft passed him, he felt it’s passenger glance in his direction. He was determined to ignore the stranger, until he heard the distinct chime of rich laughter. Uda turned to administer a poisonous glare, gripping the branch in his grasp slightly too hard. It gave under the sudden stress, and he felt his toes slip through the moss.

Uda closed his eyes as he fell, limp and prepared to submerge. After a moment, he dared to open his eyes, his dull brown meeting sapphire laced with amusement. He looked down. The stranger had steadied them with his oar, and held him still, by the collar of his tunic. 

After sobering from the shock of his near-fall, Uda’s glare became poisonous once again.
“What do you think you’re doing, you jackass!” he spat, swinging his thin legs and arms around in a rage. The stranger smiled and chuckled, finally dropping the squirming Uda on the safety of his raft. It barely bobbed as it adjusted to the weight of the small boy. 

Uda pouted, glad to have been saved from the cold rush of an unwanted fall but unwilling to give a proper thanks to this smiling stranger. Finally getting a good look at them under their wide rice hat, Uda realised it was a boy. He didn’t seem to be beyond his tenth year, though he was tall unlike Uda, who was much smaller and thinner than his eight years implied. Uda eyed the fish scale pattern on the taller boy’s cloak. It was rare to see patterned attire in the village. He eventually realised as he had been studying the stranger, he had in turn been doing the same. Uda felt an embarrassed flush take his cheeks as the stranger’s gaze settled on his bare feet, his brow cocked with that same teasing smile. Before the stranger could voice his obvious question, Uda kicked out striking him in the ankle. He didn’t budge, steadied by the oar still dug into the earth beneath. 
“Stop staring at me idiot!” Uda barked, running his hands over his face and hair as the steady rain began to pick up again. The stranger tilted his head, taking in the pathetic sight before him. The thin boy was getting wetter by the second and was so fragile looking, he had almost mistook him for a small girl; if not for that voice and the rude words it had uttered. 
The stranger let go of the oar, which kept itself right from its place in the mud beneath and undid the straps keeping his rice hat in place.