The young girl Vantaiga dug and clawed into the dry ground of her garden. Her fingers were scratched and bloodied from getting caught on the rough soil and rocks. Her cracked and dented trowel did little to assist her. All the while, Coronus’s eye, the sun, looked on, bearing his ever-stern gaze on the little girl. Watching her, judging her, waiting for her to make a mistake for which he could purge her from the world.
Her light-coloured clothes and straw hat gave her some protection from Coronus, but the heat of his anger was always there. Her neck and shoulders ached from being stooped over so long, and she desperately wanted a drink of water to relieve her parched mouth. Still, she persevered, knowing she was almost done. Soon, she would be able to retreat to her home.
She dug at the ground to lift out a ripe but thin and wilting carrot, the meagre root being too frail to pull. Digging in the rough dirt was the only way to harvest her humble bounty. She carefully dug around to avoid breaking it and wasting the precious effort she’d put into growing it.
Vantaiga looked forward to enjoying the simple vegetables she laboured to grow, especially the lowly four carrots. This year’s crop was particularly poor out of many years of poor crops. In fact, there had been so little rain for so long, she had no memory of the spring storms Hydar once brought to replenish her family’s cistern.
To her, those were only stories told by her parents, stepbrother, and stepsister. But she enjoyed what wispy rains Hydar did bring. Whenever he came by with his rains, she would run out and dance for him, hoping if she danced well enough, he would stay longer and help her garden grow. She was certain that on the days she couldn’t dance, Hydar was disappointed, and the rains were short.
But even without Hydar around, this would be a good day to celebrate. The young girl’s garden was producing more than the other farmers, and she was proud that today she would be able to offer the treat of her carrots to the table. With a few herbs and other vegetables, she thought there was enough for a decent stew.
Gingerly, she plucked the delicate specimen from its hole and placed it among the scrawny garlic, beets, and onions in her basket, which she’d also managed to ripen through the drought. She wished she could add greens to her garden. But those had to wait for winter when Coronus was not so angry and if Hydar was feeling more generous.
Despite her small collection of vegetables, the number of her carrots gave her a pleasant sense of satisfaction. She picked up her basket and carried it past the large mud-brick house that was her family’s home. The thought of the cool shade and water inside made her dry throat feel even more rasped, but she still had one last task before she could retreat from the midday’s heat.
Walking a short distance from the home, she came to four burial piles. The first grave was that of her father, while the second and third were those of an older brother and sister. She fondly reflected on the vague memories she had of them as she gently plucked the leaves off the carrots and placed them on each of the piles. They had passed away when she was young, and it seemed to the girl that she had spent more seasons seeing their graves than she had seen of them.
Sadness broke into her reflections when she came to the fourth and smallest of the stone cairns. It was the mound of her younger half-brother, who had passed away only a few years earlier. He was taken from them by Festor, the Mad God of Death and Decay.
One day, the god entered the poor infant’s lungs. He died ten days later, trying to cough the god out. Vantaiga eased her guilt by placing the carrot leaves on the child’s grave. She hadn’t been able to soothe him then, but perhaps the frilly green could soothe him now.
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She wished she could do more for them. They could not be very restful in the dry withering heat all day. If only Hydar’s rains would come back, then she could plant some trees to give some peace and colour to their final resting place. She scanned the landscape of drying grasses and grain fields about her farm, desert dunes rising not far off in the distance. Surely, they could all use some more shade and colour in the desolate landscape. She gave a brief sigh and returned to the house.
Her home stood between a long, meandering massif and a wide plain. The runoff from the mountain provided extra water for the crops and made it well situated for growing grains in the dry climate. But now, with the drought continuing for so long, even this was not enough for her family to maintain the farm.
Every year, Aridus, the God of the Desert, moved his dunes closer. If there was not more rain soon to restore the grasses that held back the sand, then Aridus would soon claim the farm as his own, just as he had done to so many other farms in the area.
Stepping inside their home brought a relieving cool to Vantaiga. She heaved her basket and placed her vegetables on the table and then went to a pitcher to retrieve a cup of water. She carefully tilted the pitcher to the cup next to it. Her mother would be angry if she spilled any of the precious liquid. But then, it seemed her mother was always angry these days.
She picked up the cup with both hands and took a gulp. She closed her eyes for a moment to savour the soothing wetness sliding down her scratched and dry throat. She raised the glass for a second gulp.
With a savage scowl, Vantaiga’s mother came from behind the girl and grabbed the cup from her hands. “What are you doing?”
Startled, Vantaiga jumped and swallowed hard at the lost opportunity to take another sip. “I was just having a drink of water.”
Her mother glared at her. “The water is for the ones who work.”
Vantaiga looked at her scraped and dirty hands. “I have been working.” With some pride, she went to her basket. “Look, I was able to harvest some vegetables from my garden.”
Her mother looked over the basket. “Barely enough for a meal.”
Vantaiga protested. “There are more ripening.”
“A wasted effort.”
The young girl retorted in defiance, “Well, I can’t grow food without water. If I had more water, I could grow more.”
The mother yanked the basket from the table and growled at her daughter through clenched teeth. “We could all grow more with more water.”
“I’m doing everything I can. My garden has more than the neighbour’s garden.”
Vantaiga’s mother grabbed the young girl by the back of the neck and roughly forced her across the room, shoving her face out an open window. Her mother hissed into her ear, “Do you see those dunes out there?”
Beneath the glaring light of the afternoon sun, Vantaiga could see the golden ridge of sand beyond their field of wheat. “That is our neighbour’s garden. Aridus is our neighbour now. We can no longer produce a surplus crop to buy tools and supplies. Soon we will not be able to produce enough for ourselves.”
She released Vantaiga and shook the basket in her face. “We all work to grow enough food to survive. If you can’t grow enough food in your garden, then I will send you to work in Aridus’s garden.”
The young girl withdrew at the harsh words. The threat of banishment to the desert was not idle. She meekly replied, “I’m trying as hard as I can. I grew some carrots as a treat for everyone.”
Her mother was unmoved. “You’re too small and weak to work the fields. Trying hard is not enough. Carrots take too much water.” She grabbed the carrots and thrust them into her face. “Look, four measly carrots. Have you forgotten how to count? There are five people in this house.”
She withdrew the carrots and took the basket of vegetables to a ledge to begin preparing them. “If you can’t produce enough food for everyone in this family, then you don’t get to eat.” She tore a hunk of bread from a loaf and threw it to the girl. “This is your supper tonight.”
Vantaiga caught the piece of bread and stared blankly at it while tears streaked her dusty cheeks.
Her mother rolled her eyes and groaned. “Oh, for the sake of the gods, more wasted water. You will have to go to the public well if you want more water for your garden. We don’t have enough already.”
The small child sniffed back her tears. “But the water lord taxes the well.”
Her mother took a long moment to look out at the encroaching dunes. Every time she looked at them, they appeared closer, more relentless. She drew in a breath before finally replying, “There is another well…to the north. In the mountains.”
“But that one is too far. It will take me all day to get water from that well.”
“Good. It’ll toughen you up to do some proper work for once. The mountains are also infested with snakes, so better leave early in the morning before they warm up. You can eat supper when you return.”
Vantaiga examined her scraped and dirty hands as she numbed herself to her mother’s words. “You used to tell stories with mothers in them that cared about their children.”
Her mother’s scowl wavered for a moment but was quickly replaced by her cold, steely gaze. “Why should I care about something that the gods are only going to take away?”
She turned her back to the girl and began cleaning the basket of vegetables. Vantaiga left the house to sit alone in the shade with her piece of bread.