The Calling

Life

The mid-day sun beat down upon my head as I bent down to cut another stalk of wheat. My arms tensed with every movement, the muscles had every swinging repetition memorized. Attributed the countless hours I spent in the field every summer, fall and spring for the past seven years.

I paused for a moment to stand straight and take a deep breath. At that moment the wind shifted and sent a deep and settling breeze, that wrapped around my bare ankles. I set my sickle to my left where I wouldn't step on it then I walked a few paces through the golden stalks of wheat.

Before me lay one full acres of clean uncut wheat, beyond that was a rich green forest, brimming with wild life. Turning completely around I eyed six acres of finely cut wheat with great satisfaction. With another full day of cutting and I will be ready to go into town and retrieve from the smithy a donkey and cart. This years harvest has been better than past years and I finished two days earlier than planned. The future actual seemed bright, for once in my life.

Bringing my fingers to my lips I let out a sharp, clear, whistle that rang in the distance. Pausing a moment I was rewarded with a return of a sharp bark. Squinting I was able to make out the russet fur of my wolfhound, Talbot, sitting in the distance by the entrance of quaint, little hovel.

I rewarded him with another whistle, letting him know I heard his bark. Nodding, I walk back to my sickle and pick it up and began slicing down stalk after stalk.

Two hours before sunset I slid my sickle back into in leather case tied around my waist and started walking back to my dwelling for a nice dinner and rest. As I walked I untied the thin cloth I had tied around my hair earlier that morning, to keep my long braid from gathering dirt and burs.

The low breeze that had been drifting lazily across the fields that day had picked up. A strong gust rushed against my body reliving my sun burned face and calves. It felt extremely refreshing. As I began to come closer to home I lifted my already short, homespun dress slightly above my knees. The current of air move around my legs keeping them cool and dry.

At times like these I was glad I lived so far from town and other farms. I didn't have to suffer during the summer like other girls, who would wear a traditional layer of cotton shifts under an already thickly spun gown with an apron of course wool. While working in the field I kept it simple with cotton trousers that went about mid-thigh and a homespun dress of soft grey nettle that fell just above my ankles. Although comfortable both Items needed to be washed badly, including myself.

Mentally I reminded myself I would do the wash tomorrow after I had finished cutting the last of the wheat, which would be before I go into town.

My heart lightened as I left the boundaries of the field and crossed onto the trodden ground of my humble dwelling. The little home before me was made of logs stacked together into a box shape, with a wide space cut in the middle for a door and one smaller box mid height for a window. The door was made of strong oak slabs pieced together set on a set of iron hinges with an Iron S hook for a handle. The window was secured by the same method only smaller. Then there was the room which was composed of logs as well that had been insulated with a think layer of tar and hay, which needed to be reapplied periodically.

A low whine greeted me as went to pull the door open, "come on Talbot, dinner!"
Talbot made a great leap out from his hiding spot by the garden before trotting to my side.

I ran my dusty hand through his thick coat and gave his side a gentle thump. Talbot has been my faithful companion and watchdog since I found him in the woods three years ago. Without him it was five times harder to watch the house and garden for intruders as well as take care of the fields.

Pulling the door open I made my way to the end of the dark cabin. There, I poured clean well water, that I had drawn that morning, into a wooden basin to wash the dust off my hands and face. Shaking the water out I went to unlatch the shudders on the window to let in light, the headed over to the fireplace.

After I had a crackling fire going I set to work preparing dinner. It would be a simple meal of dried venison, fresh tomatoes and the remaining bread from the town bakery. For Talbot I had left over bones from a deer I had caught two weeks ago. Together we sat outside under the sky as we ate our meal and watched the sun dip lower and lower on the horizon. The forest around began to grow quiet as night fell, only the slight chirp of a lonely cricket could be heard.

Standing up I stretched my sore limbs and trudged back in to the cabin with Talbot behind me. We entered the cabin and Talbot took his position by the door while I bolted the door and windows. We rarely got visitors of any sort but just in case we did we wanted to be ready.

Walking to a simple chest by my raised bed, I opened it, pulled out a long sword wrapped in oil cloth. I untied the cloth neatly laying it aside and pulled a gleaming sword out of its scabbard. Raising the blade a over my head, I made a few test cuts into the air before sliding it back. I place it in a nook at the head of my bed just as a precaution.

Slipping out of my dusty clothing and into a light under dress, I climbed into the soft folds of my quilted bed. As soon as my eyes closed I was asleep.