In the House with Chicken Feet (5)

Hin had never owned a new set of clothes in his life.

They itched. Not a dirty-itch or a too-tight-itch, but a new-clothes-itch. At least, that's what he thought it was. He could only imagine this was what such an itchiness would be like.

It wasn't particularly nice. It wasn't terrible either. It just was and combined with the crisp scent of new cotton and the murky smell of his own sweat, Hin felt somewhat miserable.

Chopping wood didn't help much. Hin had handled an ax before, but it had been dull and tarnished. It had taken him nearly an hour just to get used to the lightness of the tool he wielded now, not to mention the way it split the logs almost effortlessly. Most of the soreness tugging at his biceps and underarms now was the result of his overcompensation.

And it was hot. He'd kicked and struggled when the twins, now wearing thick muscles and hairy legs that poked out from the hems of their robes, hauled him from his room and towards a door. But instead of water rushing out to meet him when the yellow door swung open, it was a blast of oven-hot air. Instead of the watery blue light just outside the window, it was baking sunlight. And instead of the waving kelp and flashing scales of fish, there was just a ring of hard-packed dirt, a pile of logs and a chopping block with a gleaming ax tilted out of it.

He wasn't sure how there could be a courtyard here. The house wasn't big enough to include one. But it was a baba's house, so what did he know? All he knew was that there were walls all around a space bigger than his village square, and there was nothing but blue sky above. It smelled funny too, like salt and rotting hay. No saltwater or crying gulls. What was wrong with this place?

It had taken him a long time to finally get to the pile of wood in the center of the open space. Without the twins there to push him along - they had shoved him out the door and then slammed it behind him - he had skirted along the outside, peering through windows, looking for the water as if it would attack from hiding while his back was turned. But the windows, to the last, were curtained and eventually he had made his way to the chopping block.

And now, after baba knew how many hours, the wood pile didn't seem to be getting any smaller. Each time he went to pick up a log, it seemed to reappear when he looked back. Or one fell into its place. After a while, he began to vary where he pulled the log from, but it didn't seem to make a difference. Hours into it and the pile hadn't gotten any smaller, even as the stack of chopped wood grew to be larger than the unchopped pile.

"Having fun there, Tadpole?"

And then there was Elmo, the woman in rags. She was leaning against a wall, feet and arms pulled into the slim line of shadow that was still left in the noon sun. That was another thing. The sun didn't seem to be moving. He was certain that he had been there for hours at least, but the shadows hadn't lengthened. And Elmo didn't seem to think that was odd. She just tucked herself into the cool spot that didn't change size and taunted him occasionally.

"You're slow," she said, her voice echoing slightly through the empty space.

Hin bit back any response. He wasn't sure exactly how Elmo was involved with the baba. The twins had glared at her when they dragged him through the door, but they hadn't said anything. She hadn't said anything either, at least not at first.

"Take it easy there," she'd said finally as he'd stumbled over his own feet at the lightness of the ax for the fifth time. "Slow down with it."

And then she'd stood up and come to stand next to him. She was tall, taller even than Tua, and just as thin. Her elbows were knobby at the bend of her wiry arms as she took the ax from him.

"This is a woodcutter's ax," she explained to him, as if that made it special. "It isn't going to bite your leg off unless you really want it too. So take it easy."

And she'd walked him through the way to handle the ax. He wasn't sure what to say. She smelled bad, like cheap beer, and her hair was tied into a messy knot that sprouted hair every which way, but she was strong. She lifted the logs with one hand and tipped them lightly onto the chopping block. Then she swung the ax in one fluid motion that was surprising, even with how light the ax itself was, and split the log neatly in half. Her staff hung down her back and it rattled against her spine through her rags with the movement.

"You're going to have to earn your keep, little Frog-Toes, or the baba'll throw you to the fishes." The tendons in her arms flexed as she brought another blow down onto a fresh log. That sent cold slivers down to bite at his intestines and he formed a few shaky words.

"I-I can't swim. I'd die."

Elmo had a face like leather, pitted all over with fine wrinkles that deepened when she crooked a blinding grin at him. How she had such white teeth when she was so dirty was strange.

"Ha, I've a mind to ask her to do it. With feet like that? You'd be a natural. Put a damper on her flame, wouldn't it?"

He wished she'd stop harping on his feet. But she went back to sit in her shade, pulling her staff to rest on her shoulder again. She didn't leave, but she left him alone.

o-o-o

Elmo had nearly fallen asleep, lulled by the irregular thunk of the ax and the warm air, when the baba came to stand next to her. Elmo didn't even bother to open her eyes, just half-heartedly muttered a curse as the baba's aura sliced through the comfortable haze.

"He's still there," Elmo said unnecessarily. The ax was audible all through the house.

"Disapproval?" Mayuko tsked. "You do recall that you were the one who turned him in."

"Tua caught him, not me."

"Mmm, yes. He is a good boy."

Elmo didn't answer. She glared at the red glow the sun made through her eyelids.

"They didn't take him," the baba finally said. There was a snap of thin wood and paper as she opened a fan.

"I didn't ask."

"They didn't ask about you."

"I didn't ask."

"Mmm, but you don't trust me."

"Why shouldn't I?"

The baba didn't answer and Elmo ignored the way the pit of her stomach dropped out when Mayuko didn't reassure her that she hadn't volunteered any information.

"You're hoping he's one," Mayuko said finally, and Elmo didn't have to open her eyes to look at where the fan was indicating.

"I didn't think that."

The baba chuckled. "You should be ashamed of yourself, Elmo, telling such falsehoods."

Elmo straightened her legs out from under her rags and recrossed them, squinting up at the baba. Mayuko was staring out into space and yet smiling, as if she were looking into the boy's soul; which, if Elmo knew anything about Mayuko, she likely was somehow. It felt dirty, the baba watching the boy without him knowing. Mayuko grinned and looked down at Elmo, as if guessing the other woman's thoughts.

"Don't worry so much," she said lightly. If anything, I'll treat the cursed thing better than his own people would and, in return, he'll be very useful. And if it makes you feel better. I'll let you watch over him."

Elmo pursed her lips and looked away.

"Boy got into this on his own. He can take care of himself."

It was hard to deny that the baba's lack of confirmation or denial made her heart beat just a little faster.

o-o-o

Hin wasn't sure how long the baba had been standing next to Elmo. He had merely glanced back when he paused to wipe his forehead with his sleeve and there she had been, all bright yellow lace and fluttering plastic boa. She wiggled her fingers at him like a flirting barmaid and he fell on his face in a bow. Elmo laughed at him, a harsh cawing like a crow, and when he raised his head, Mayuko was gone.

"Come in and get a drink of water, Tadpole," the dirty woman called, crooking her finger at him. "You've done enough for one day. Wouldn't want your little toes to shrivel up."

o-o-o

That night, Elmo leaned against her usual wall on the house's outer shell and watched as Tua stooped, took a step, then stooped again, making his way about the perimeter of the house. By the light of the fireflies, he carefully planted each kiss from his pouch in a carefully-poked hole in the ground.

She was always there, but he always seemed surprised to see her when she drew attention to herself.

"Not keeping any for yourself, boy?" she asked. His eyes flashed at her like cat's eyes in the semi-darkness, but he didn't answer.

He usually didn't.