text: The cold shoulder &#x200B; Harv grabbed a handful of wheat with his offhand. With his other hand, a quick swoop of his sickle the wheat came free of the ground that birthed it. He released. The wheat floated to the ground. Harv grabbed another handful. Cutting wheat was hard work. Especially this wheat. The wheat in Harv’s land grew short. One had to bend in order to get low enough to cut the short wheat. That bend had to be at the waist, not the knees, in order to move fast enough to cut the wheat in time. If the wheat wasn’t cut in time, the cold and the rain would destroy it and many in Lowville would go hungry or starve. Harv wouldn’t have it. He grabbed another handful of wheat. Calling it Harv’s land, was not technically incorrect, but it was misleading. In the town of Lowville, everyone owned the land together. Everyone planted together. Everyone harvested together. It was backbreaking work. Not that Harv minded. Another handful of wheat. Another swoop of his sickle. Always away from his body. The sickle was sharp enough to take a finger as easily as a grain of wheat. Harv had no desire for that. He liked the way things felt in his fingers. Harv stood and put his knuckles into the small of his back. They massaged and worked out the soreness to the extent possible. Everyone always had muscle tenderness in their backs and the backs of their legs for at least a couple of days. Sometimes, for a week. This was a good year for harvest. Tonight’s celebration would be one to remember. He turned side to side, scanning the fields. A hundred other men, of all ages, separated wheat from the land. A hundred women, of all ages, bundled the wheat and tied them together into sheaves, using straw. Harv didn’t pay attention to any of them, except for one. Sonpra sheaved as fast as Harv cut. Her golden hair spilled about her shoulders. Over the summer, the sun had burned her skin red before settling into a light bronze. Like everyone else in town, Harv couldn’t relate. His hair was black, and his skin stayed bronze year-round. They were made for each other. Tonight, he would tell her how he felt. Harv looked around some more. Sonpra’s father cut at a good pace for a man of his years. His hair was also black and his skin bronzed. He was not really Sonpra’s father. No one knew who her parents were, but the man had raised her as if she were from his own seed. It wasn’t the first time Harv had worked alongside the old man. Earlier in the summer, he had helped re-thatch Sonpra’s roof which was also a lot of hard work. He had said he had done it out of the goodness of his heart, but really, he had just wanted to be closer to Sompra. They were meant to be together. Harv looked around some more. Chad was the last person to catch Harv’s eye. Not a fortnight ago, if you asked anyone in Lowville, they’d bet the entire village harvest that Chad and Sonpra would be betrothed in time for a spring wedding. Within the last week, that had all changed. Rumors circled that Sonpra’s parents were not human. Harv didn’t believe that nonsense, but Chad did. It was enough for Chad to sever any involvement with Sonpra as easily as Harv’s sickle severed the wheat from the ground. Harv had been there as a shoulder to cry on. They were meant to be together. Shortly before the sunset, the cutting finished. There was still some sheaving to do, but that work was done by the women and Harv needed to appear as manly as possible tonight at the feast. After one last glance at Sonpra, he headed home for a nap. That night with the harvest behind them, the people of Lowville celebrated. Harv had overslept and by the time he arrived the harvest festival was in full swing. He had to be the last person to arrive. A great fire, fifty paces in diameter and a hundred paces high, lit the otherwise night sky. Accompanied by the music of the lute and drums, the fire danced, and the villagers danced in step. Mugs of fermented drink were passed around. A couple of people offered the drink to Harv, but he declined. He needed a clear head tonight. Although, the drink would help with his courage. Chad was there. It boggled Harv’s mind that Chad believed the nonsense about Sonpra being the spawn of a non-human. Oh well, Chad’s loss and Harv’s gain. Sonpra’s dad was there too, but not for long. Harv waited until the old man left the festival to retire for the evening. A day of work that hard was enough to exhaust a man of his years. For a young man like Harv, it energized him. Then he spotted her. Sonpra wasn’t dancing. She wasn’t drinking either. She didn’t even appear to hear the music. With her ankles crossed and her hands clasped around her knees, she sat and stared into the fire. It mesmerized and terrified her. Harv could tell by the look on her face. Harv sat between the fire and Sonpra, facing her. He crossed his ankles and clasped his hands around his knees, mirroring her position. He studied her blue eyes and curled up lips. She was perfect. They were meant to be together. Harv took a deep breath then let it all out. Everything. He professed his love or her, how he had always loved her, and how he would always love her. Sonpra’s eyes went wide. The silence was too discomforting. Harv filled it with babble. He explained how he had helped her father repair the roof so he could be close to her. How he had been there for her when her relationship with Chad went sour. Sonpra was as still as a statue, her eyes so wide they nearly went out of her head and her mouth was agape. Harv elaborated how he had been hoping that Chad and she wouldn’t last. How he had been elated when they separated. How he had been waiting for his chance to be with her. Sonpra stood then walked away. Harv was stunned. He jumped to his feet and chased after her, all the while professing how good he would treat her, unlike Chad. Sonpra picked up the pace of her walk. She asked him to leave her alone. Harv had to jog to catch up with her. He told her how he knew she would be so happy with him. Sonpra warned him not to touch her then ran from him. Harv broke into a run to catch her. He yelled to her that he deserved to be with her. That he had earned it. He caught up to her and grabbed the back of her shoulder. Harv dropped in pain. A pain so great it knocked him unconscious for a minute. His hand throbbed and his other hand caressed it. It was as frozen as if he touched the skin of Mendax. In the light of the fire, his hand was as white as snow. A stark contrast to the bronzed skin of his other hand. Sonpra was nowhere in sight. Harv wobbled home, ashamed and confused. His hand stopped hurting. It stopped everything. He could feel nothing at all. When he awoke his hand had returned to normal, except his palm and fingertips were black. The black parts of his hand could feel nothing. Harv could use the hand, but never regain feeling in it. He also never went near Sonpra again.