As the boy labored and the father told his story, the father remembered their female man with a miserable sadness that the boy heard in his voice. The boy on the roof of the proper kennel looked down at the father. The father with the pain in his heart looked up at his boy. Father and son looked at each other, and the boy asked for a plank of wood. The father reached for one in the stack beside the proper kennel and passed it up to his boy, who returned to his mallet but did not resume his work. He listened to the father tell his story.
“The next day, I took my lunch to the long grass at the edge of the wilderness and my little friend appeared and ate the grains from my hand. I talked to him about whatever a boy of that age who is lonely talks about to a man and he seemed genuinely interested, for he remained quietly in place though he had finished eating and there were no more grains. So he was my friend and I went to visit with him every day. I grew very fond of him and I called him Fat One. One day when I got there, Fat One had brought with him another man. This man was taller than Fat One and with a fatter stomach, but with the same pale skin and a similar oval shaping of the eyes. I recoiled when I saw him, for his face made me wonder if he were dangerous. He had ugly bruises and gashes on his face as though he had been clawed by a predator or maybe even another man. I called him Ugly One and I fed him too, though I did not like him as much because of his damaged appearance and because he always rushed to grab the grains from my hand before I could give some to my little friend Fat One. One day when I went to the wilderness, Ugly One was there alone and he rushed to snatch the grains from my hand. Where was Fat One? Where was my little friend? While Ugly One ate his fill of the grains, I went into the edge of the wilderness searching for Fat One. I only had to walk a few hla-cubits before I found him lying on the ground, bleeding from a wound in his head. I was puzzled. What happened? Seconds later, my bewilderment was solved when Ugly One, having finished his meal, ran to Fat One and hit his head with a sizeable rock and began to dance and laugh. Like all boys, I had been warned never to trouble a feral man because they bite and they have diseases, but I became angry and I lifted Ugly One by the neck and slapped his face with my hand, crying, Don’t do that! Don’t do that! When I dropped him, he screeched miserably and ran off into the wilderness, never to be seen by my eyes again. Well, now I had to do something. I could not leave Fat One lying helpless on the wilderness floor. What if Ugly One returned to finish the job? What if some other predator found him? The truth was that I had been hoping ever since I’d found Fat One that my mother would allow me to keep him as a pet. So I picked him up and took him home, where I explained all that had happened to my mother. She nodded her head as I spoke, and then she took him from me, washed and scented him so that the bad smell went away, and then she laid out some sheets for bedding and placed him upon them. That night I slept on the bedding with my little man man Fat One beside me. In the morning when I awoke, he was doing much better and we played together all day. The friend of my father who owned the farm came to visit and he and my mother looked on as we played. And the friend of my dead father said, The man cannot stay in the house. He will have to stay out in the yard. My mother had a queer, sad look on her face, and she said to me somberly, He will be safe in the yard. Then she commanded me to take a nap and I did, and when I awoke from the nap, it was time for supper. I ran to the window to see my man in the yard, but could not. Well, it was a big yard. I would go out after supper and we would continue our play. So I ate my meat soup with grains that was set before me and thought nothing more of it. Afterward I ran back to the door, and my mother stopped me. Where are you going? she asked. To play with my man, said I. And my mother had tears in her eyes as she explained what had been done. The friend of my dead father had a great appetite for man, but they were scarce and dangerously feral in that part of the earth and thus expensively sold by the trappers and hunters. But a feral man made a pet of by a boy dwelling on his property? Indeed, it was his property, as was every beast living on it. He considered the gift of the quarter portion of Fat One that he had given us to make our soup quite a grand gesture on his part. My mother warned me that if I hoped to avoid sadness, I was never to bring home another man until our situation was improved or until the friend of my dead father had made of her a wife. The warning was unnecessary, for my stomach had already been forever turned.”
The father, having finished his story, sighed and went into the house.
The boy, disturbed but undeterred by his father’s story, hefted his mallet and resumed his hammering of nails.
When the boy arrived at his wealthy friend’s house, only the wealthy father was at home and he bid him come in. They passed through the great house and to the back where the proper kennels were set up. Her kennel door was already open, and the boy reached inside and she came to him. She was pretty with her red hair in bright green hair cloths and her loins covered by a green pouch.
As he leashed her, he said, “You’re going to live with me now.”
She answered, “Yes, they told me.”
The look on her face was not exactly joy, and he said to her, “You don’t want to come live with me? You don’t like me?”
“I like you very much. I guess it will be okay.”
The boy glanced up at the wealthy father, who shrugged, and then he said to the little female man, “I thought you liked me.”
“I like you just fine.”
“But…”
“But that place is where my mother died.”
“I liked your mother very much,” he said.
“Yes, they told me. But you’re very poor. Will I be able to eat every day?”
The poor boy flinched.
The wealthy boy’s father smiled.
“Yes,” the poor boy insisted, “we have food enough for you,” though he knew there would not always be food enough for themselves. “You will eat every day. I am working at the mill to make sure that you are well fed. You will eat better than we do. Does that answer all your questions, little man?”
“Okay, I guess.”
“What now?”
“Instruments.”
“We have a small singing harp.”
He saw the look on her face. One small singing harp?
He said, “It’s the one your mother used to play… and I will work to purchase new instruments for you. In time you will come to own every instrument that exists. I promise.”
It was a promise they all knew he could not keep, so the wealthy boy’s father added, “And what he does not own, he is free to borrow from me.”
She nodded at that, but the look on her face…
“What now?”
“Nothing.”
“What? Tell me,” the poor boy said.
The red-haired female man hid her face in her hands.
“What?” he said. “What?”
She blushed. “Well, it’s just that I have someone here that I like. Will I be able to see him from time to time?”