My mother’s hand gripping my shoulder shaking me rattled me awake. I heard her mumbling something, but I couldn’t make out what it was. Fogginess clouded my thoughts. My eyes felt heavy as I opened them and scrunched them shut, blinded by the morning light poking in through the canvas tent.

  “Come on, get up,” my mother barked at me.

  I rolled over to escape my mother’s powerful grasp, the roughness a stark contrast with yesterday’s tender caressing. I sharply inhaled as the memories flooded back and with them came a heart wrenching thought. Hera. I pushed on my cheeks while my stomach dropped to the floor. I rewarded Hera’s gentleness with swearing and yelling. Today I’ll need to visit her and make sure there are no ill feelings between us.

  In my pensiveness, I didn’t realize my mother had left the tent and come back. The tent flap slammed shut as my mother threw a cotton shirt and pants at the edge of my blankets.

  “Put these on and get rid of those old raggedy things. Hurry up,” she demanded. “We have to rearrange the tent before our first client shows up.”

  I huffed at my mother as I slowly rose to my feet. “What do you mean ‘our’ client? I’m not a fortune teller,” I complained. “I’m going to Hera’s today. I need to talk to her.” I glared at my mother and dug my fists into my hips.

  My mother didn’t look up from her shuffling. She folded up the blankets of her bed and stacked them neatly in a pile by the door. When she finished she turned to me, “Well, my son, that’s just too bad. You’re not going anywhere.” She pointed to the clothes. Her authoritative look said enough. The light blue eyes meeting mine. I shuddered and looked away.

  I begrudgingly grabbed the shirt she pointed at, slapping it against my calves. I’ll have to slip out quietly when the time was right.

  “Excuse me?” My mother froze and glared at me.

  I didn’t mean to react that rashly. My shoulders sagged as I turned away from my mother and examined the shirt closer. It was a beige, sandy color with a v-shaped slit in the collar that could be tied together by a drawstring. Most importantly, it seemed pretty big, too large for my slim figure.

  “Oh, for goodness sakes, child,” she complained. The heavy fabric of the blanket landed on the hard ground with a soft thump. Shortly afterward, a bundle of fabric struck the side of my head. My ear stung and began to go numb. I looked at the pants that laid at my feet.

  “Hey! That hurt.” I yelped. But my mother ignored me, arranging the thin pillows for her and the clients that would seek her out. She laid down enough pillows for three.

  Without further complaints I changed my shirt and trousers. I was right about the shirt, it hung awkwardly over my shoulders. The pants fit pretty well once I drew the belt tight. But I disliked the prickly fabric. I began to scratch my chest and belly.

  “The shirt is an old one of Fern’s. Not much we can do about the size.” My mother explained like she was answering a question she thought I’d ask. She looked me up and down before continuing. “Shoes we will figure out later today during our lunch break.” She reached out and smacked my hands away from their intense scratching. “Stop scratching like that. You aren’t a damn animal.”

  “Since when did you start caring about how I look and act?” I demanded to know. I wasn’t the one that let me wear my clothes so long that they slowly fell apart. What else did she expect from her free-range son?

  “You are making me feel like a six year old boy instead of a man turning sixteen in a few weeks,” I complained.

  My mother didn’t look up. She silently pulled a comb out of a little box she kept hidden under the tarps of the floor. I looked at the comb in her petite hands. It seemed well crafted from a light wood with intricate lines of light blue embellishing the handle. She motioned to me to sit down on the pile of blankets she folded up. I stayed standing where I was, glaring at her while she gracefully sat down on the edge of the pile.

  “Well it’s about time that lad of nearly sixteen looked and acted the part.” She motioned again for me to sit down. “Get over here!” She angrily pointed at the spot in front of where she sat.

  I stood defiantly looking at my mother. For a third time she pointed and tilted her head, her eyebrows slowly raising. I sighed, walked over and sat down in front of my mother on the blankets. I angrily crossed my arms.

  My hair was pretty long, reaching just below my shoulders. The comb pulled hard on the tangled mess. Every tug sent a sharp pain through my scalp. The teeth of the comb caught on a knot and pulled my head back toward my mother. I reached back to stop my mother from pulling so hard. My effort was met with an unusually hard slap on my hand with the back of the comb.

  “Ow, that really hurt.” I whined while sucking on the back of my stinging hand. My mother continued combing out the my matted hair disregarding my protests about her being so rough.

  Once in a while my mother threw a clump of tangled hairs on my lap. I picked one up to study it. Sometimes I wondered if the gods played a cruel joke on me and removed my mother’s brown pigment out of my hair, leaving only the light cream hue behind. I wished my hair looked like hers. I’ve never seen another boy with hair as light as mine.

  My mother got up to put the comb back in its box and hid it once again amongst the tarps. In her hands I noticed a piece of leather string from an old bag. She sat down again behind me and carefully gathered my hair into a low pony tail. The string she tied tight around the clump of hair.

  “There, all done!” She exclaimed proudly clapping her hands together. “ Too bad we don’t have a mirror so you can see how handsome you are.” I didn’t know what a mirror was and I didn’t want to know. I’ve heard enough from the other boys in the village about what I look like through their insults and shoving.

  I sat briefly on that blanket thinking about the last time my mother put my hair in a ponytail. It was years ago. She’d play with my hair by the warmth of the fire when I was little.

  My mother motioned for me to get up so she could gather up all the folded blankets and push them into my empty hands.

  “Take the blankets to Fern for me would you? He let us borrow them,” she asked holding the flap of the tent open for me.

  I was glad to bring the blankets back even though it meant talking to Fern. It took a while for my mother to comb my hair. I could possibly avoid the first client or better yet slip away to see Hera.

  Before my mother let the flap close she called to me, “You go to Fern and straight back you hear? If I’m with a client you quietly come in, got it?”

  “Yes mother.” I lied before turning to go to Fern’s, not in any hurry to get there.

  ──── ? ────

  Fern knew I was coming. He stood outside his tent to greet me arms crossed over his broad chest. His fingers tapped steadily on his arm as he brooded over the dusty market road.

  “There’s Margie’s boy! I was waitin’ for ya.” He reached out to grab the blankets from me. I briefly paused, glaring at him from behind the pile of fabric in my arms. “Come on, lad. I don’t bite.” He waved me over. I shrunk behind the blankets to hide from the smile on his face.

  Cautiously, I took the first few steps toward Fern focusing on the soft dirt creeping between my toes. My heart pounded harder with each step. Fern rushed up and plucked the blankets out of my arms. He took extra care not to touch me. My brow scrunched together at the realization. Regardless, I took two steps back, should he decide to grab me.

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  “You lookin’ a lot better now then last night, lad. I don’t know how you could’ve sweat so much. It was cold last night,” Fern said as he threw the blankets in the corner of his market tent behind a sturdy wooden crate. I huffed, feeling my cheeks flush warm watching my mother’s carefully folded handy work be undone in an instant. I kept silent watching him turn back around to face me.

  Fern looked me up and down nodding as he crossed his arms again. “And you clean up well.” He laughed, his broad shoulders bobbing with the breath leaving his chest. “Too bad you ain’t my kid.” I shuffled my weight between my feet and stared at the ground. The top of my foot was buried under a thin layer of sand. I traced circles in it with my toe, straining my leg trying to balance on one foot. It made my skin crawl thinking about being his kid.

  Fern raised a brow looking at me but he continued with the same jovial tone. “Well, lad, starting tonight you’ll be a sort of adopted son of mine.” His smile grew wider but he didn’t move toward me. My eyes darted between his boots, his tent and the road. “Has your mother told you the good news, yet?” Desperately I wanted to shake the grin off his face and flee but I couldn’t turn desire into action.

  Instead, I planted my foot in the soft dirt, wincing as a lone stone poked the soft arch. “Yes sir, my mother and I are honored to welcome you into our humble home,” I said bending at the wait to bow to him like I’ve seen the village leaders do when the high nobles came to the village. I nearly fell over in the process, catching myself with a small step forward.

  It was silent with the exception of the bustling of the market behind us. I tensed up waiting for Fern’s hand to come down on my shoulder, when it didn’t I gradually straightened up. Fern leaned against one of the sturdy wooden poles holding up the canvas of his market tent. His face a bright shade of red as he sharply exhaled into his arm.

  I jumped when he broke out laughing loud enough that I was certain my mother could hear him in her tent. “And by golly, you’ve been raised right.” He forced the words out between the sharp breaths of his laughter. “Boy, you don’t need to flatter me. Stop that nonsense would you? It ain’t right.” He clapped his hands together before rubbing his face slowly between his palms. He waved me off before turning back to his wares, “Hurry back to your mum, lad. You’ve got a long day ahead of you.”

  “Yes, sir!” I turned on my heels dashing down the road toward my mother’s tent. But it wasn’t her tent I would return to. As soon as I was out of sight of Fern’s potential watchful eyes, I slipped into the small alleyway between the tents. I knew the alleys well and I could double back toward the bakery without being caught. At this time of day, Hera should still be there.

  ──── ? ────

  In the early hours of the morning when the sun is just starting to peek out over the hillside, I walked alone with only the chirping of the birds to keep me company. Well, nearly alone.

  The others that walked by me nodded greetings or flat out told me good morning. I wasn’t sure how to respond. Before, nobody ever batted an eye at me and actively tried to avoid me. I sighed and stared at the ground before my feet.

  As I walked, I debated what I wanted to say to Hera, analyzing each word of my apology with careful scrutiny. My apology had to be perfect. I couldn’t bare the idea of losing her, especially with this new curse I’d been put under.

  I was so lost in thought that I didn’t notice the man before I walked into him. I tripped, falling hard on the now cobblestone path as he harshly shoved me aside.

  “Walk much, witch’s brat?” A sharp voice snarled at me. I looked up to the shadow of Levi brooding over me. I braced waiting for the first blow to land, my eyes squeezed shut, my trembling arms raised to block my face.

  But the blows didn't come.

  “Lucky for you, witch’s brat, I’m busy. Otherwise, I’d make you pay for what you did. Next time. Next time.” He turned and walked away. I slowly lowered my arms to my sides not relaxing until the massive boy turned the corner toward the harbor road.

  I exhaled in relief as I pushed myself to my feet and dusted the dirt off my pants. My hand brushed a tender spot on my hip were I'd fallen, another temporary gift from Levi.

  I continued down the path rubbing the arm where Levi shoved me. Thankfully he is, yet again, late for his work down by the docks. I shivered thinking about what he could've done with the full brunt of his muscles that loaded crates all day.

  Levi might be a year older than myself but he didn’t look like a man of sixteen years. Although, I'm almost a head taller than he is, Levi is built like a bull ready to trample a reed.

  As I continued to walk down the road my body suddenly felt heavy. I felt the slow warming of my blood. Black specks slowly started taking over my vision as the throbbing in my head started. I needed to hide, and quick. I grabbed my head between my hands and took off as fast as I could.

  I ran and the houses on each side of the path blurred into a black speckled haze. Every step was agony but I forced myself to keep going. My watery eyes darted between the houses looking for anything that could shelter me from the light stabbing them.

  The next alleyway provided the haven I was looking for. The owner of the home had two large barrels just around the corner. I stuffed myself between them and the outside wall of the home. It was a tight squeeze. A boy my age that did physical work wouldn’t be able to crawl in that tight space.

  I didn’t drop my head into my hands laying in my lap. By doing so, I worried that would allow myself to give up and let my conscious be consumed by the vision demanding its place. Sweat slid down past my ear and ran along the edge of my jaw.

  Once I was fully comfortable, I focused first on my breathing. I talked myself through every breath.

  “Inhale and exhale,” I said quietly aloud remembering my mother's words last It helped keep my mind off the throbbing in my head but it wasn’t enough to fully keep the vision away. It nipped at my conscious like a fish nipped at the worm on a hook.

  I dropped my chin to my chest and dug my nails into my knees. The pain of the nails digging into my skin kept me aware of where I was and preserved the little strength I had to suppress the raging feeling inside me.

  “Let it go. Let it go. Let it go,” I murmured under my breath as I rocked back and forth.

  The drum in my head slowly stopped beating. I didn’t open my eyes but the pin prickling that caused the black spots gradually stopped. The uncomfortable sensation in my veins melted away and the nagging vision slowly went with it. I slumped over and the world went black.

  ──── ? ────

  As I slowly came to I realized I was floating. At least that’s what it felt like till I could feel the two strong arms that held me tight to a warm, muscular chest. Someone had found me behind the barrels but I couldn’t fight back if I wanted to. My arms and legs refused to move. I should keep trying to push away but instead, I buried my face deeper into the stranger’s warm shirt.

  “Well my boy. You’re finally coming to, huh?” It was Fern’s voice but not a Fern I recognized. The voice was too caring and his touch too soft for the Fern I knew.

  “You really had your mother and I in a fright you know.” He continued “It was really stupid of you to run off like that.” I could tell he was scolding me but it didn't feel genuine.

  “Fern, how?” He didn't answer at first.

  “What is it boy?” I teared up hearing the softness of his voice.

  I turned my head so I was no longer talking into his shirt “How Fern? How did you find me?”

  Fern gripped me tighter. I admired the strength he had to carry a boy of my size and length so far. “Well when you didn’t come back, your mother came to me in a panic. Her next client was already waiting so she begged me to come look for you.”

  I interrupted his story to ask if I could walk on my own. ”No boy. It’s best if you don’t,” he said. I bit my lip. I shivered. This isn't the Fern I know. His voice is too gentle and his touch too soft.

  Fern adjusted his grasp. “I figured you’d go to Hera. Your mother mentioned that you wanted to talk to her. I passed Levi, he looked to happy for a lad heading to work.I figured he ran into you and that you’d hide. What I didn’t expect was finding you fainted behind a barrel.”

  “That’s pretty much how it happened,” I confirmed his story. “Levi pushed me over and I ran off.”

  I felt Fern laughing before I heard the sound. “Oh lad. You are leaving out how you blacked out. I can’t tell you how I know what I’m about to tell you because it’s not my place to. But you need to hear it. You need to get this power of yours under control. The more you deny it the more it will try to tear you apart.”

  I looked up to him, my eyes wide with the realization the he even knew what I was going through. He noticed. “Yes lad, I know more about you and your mother than we let on. I’m taking you back to her. You will listen to every word she says and do everything she tells you to. Do you understand me, boy?” He sternly asked.

  Deep down I knew he was right, I felt it myself . The ancient magic will destroy me if left unchecked.

  “Yes, sir. I understand,” I mumbled. And with those words I felt a little bit of the burden I bear being lifted.