Page 16 of The Poison Season

There were five ewes nursing lambs, all creamy fleece and knobby knees. The ewe with twins was the most docile. Tate was already at the fence, trying to tempt her with a handful of grass. She made her way over eagerly, her babies tripping along as they attempted to walk and nurse at the same time, a skill they had not yet mastered.

“She’s such a good mother,” Tate said, patting the ewe on her woolly head.

Sage nudged him out of the way. “It’s her nature.”

Tate and Leelo shared a glance; they knew that not all mothers were as kind and loving as theirs, that not every woman took to motherhood so readily.Perhaps it’s different with sheep, Leelo thought.

“What are their names?” Isola asked, lifting her chin at the babies.

Sage rolled her eyes. “Names? They’re not pets, you know. We’ll keep the female for breeding and wool. The male will likely be eaten at some point. You don’t name your dinner, do you?”

Leelo frowned at Sage. Isola was showing interest in something, and her cousin was doing her best to squash it.

“I think we should call that one Fleecy,” Tate said, pointing to the little male.

Leelo smiled when she saw Isola’s eyes light up just a bit. “And what about the other one?” Isola asked Tate.

He thought for a moment. “Weecy.”

Sage snorted. “That’s not even a name.”

Tate ignored her and held out some more grass for the mother. “And I’ll call you Clover.”

Leelo’s heart felt like it might burst in her chest from how much she loved her little brother, and that surge of hope she’d felt earlier vanished. Tate was too good for the outside world, too pure. He would never survive among those horrible villagers. He’d need to go farther away. Far enough where the people wouldn’t know anything about Endla or its inhabitants. Which meant he’d probably be too far away to come back this winter.

The barn door opened so violently it hit the outside wall with a bang, startling the lambs. Ketty emerged, her face contorted in a scowl.

Leelo tried to hide Tate behind her and cast a worried glance at Isola. But Ketty’s anger was directed elsewhere. She stormed past the four of them, heading back toward the house.

“What’s wrong, Mother?” Sage asked, hurrying after Ketty.

“One of the ewes won’t nurse her lamb,” she said over her shoulder. “I have to fetch a bottle.”

“I can do it,” Tate offered, but Ketty only cast him a withering glance and disappeared into the house.

“It’s all right,” Leelo said to him. “Let’s go look for tadpoles in the stream instead.”

“You’re wrong,” he said gruffly, shrugging off Leelo’s hand. “She does hate me. She’d get rid of me herself, if she could.”

That evening, Ketty led a sheep by a rope around its neck into the woods. Fiona had insisted on staying home with Tate, despite Ketty’s protests, and Leelo wished she was back there with them, cozy by the fire instead of tromping through the Forest to the slaughter.

“At least try not to look miserable,” Sage said to Leelo as they gathered in the pine grove. Leelo hadn’t been back since she made the blood sacrifice for Tate’s magic. She’d never liked this place. How could she, when it contained the memories of so much suffering? Each family stood at the base of their tree with their offering, a motley assembly of animals, ranging from chickens to a lowing calf.

When they were children, Ketty had insisted that the girls each sacrifice an animal themselves, to fully appreciate their responsibilities as Endlans. In the end, Leelo hadn’t been able to do it, and Sage had been forced to kill both of their rabbits.

Later that night, Leelo had been crying in bed when Sage asked her what was wrong.

“Aunt Ketty said I was too soft for this world, that it would always find a way to break my heart,” Leelo said through her tears. “Do you think that’s true?”

“Of course not,” Sage had assured her. “Mother just doesn’t know you like I do.”

But even now, a part of Leelo knew that Ketty was right. One of the council members led them all in the killing song, and one by one, the head of each household ran a knife along the throat of their sacrifice. Terrified bleats and lows split the night, and Leelo stifled a gag as the iron tang of blood filled the air, pooling at the base of each tree before disappearing into the soil. Once again, Leelo thought she heard the wind rustle through the highest branches, like the sigh of a man satisfied with his meal, and she shuddered before glancing at Sage.

“Which one did Aunt Ketty choose this time?” Leelo asked, watching as the life drained out of the poor sheep.

Sage’s gaze was fierce in the lantern light. “The one that wouldn’t nurse her baby.”

Leelo felt bile rise in her throat. “Why?”

---