The season’s first frosts had not yet come, so the grass of the garden was glinting with dew in the weak sunlight, tiny glistening spheres of water clinging to each blade like jewels. He stood for a moment, appreciating the sight, and then turned and set off at a jog as the anticipation of seeing his friends grew too much to ignore.

As he left the gate of the garden, he glanced up the road to see a huge dappled grey horse standing beside the front door, head down as it grazed on the grassy verge bordering the dirt. He frowned, slowing to a halt at the sight. The horse was enormous, and Eldred was unsure if he’d ever seen one so big. He took a step toward it, and the creature lifted its head to look at him, dark brown eyes hiding a glint of intelligence. He frowned, standing there and watching it for a time, wondering if it belonged to the visitor within. He longed to approach it, to feel the soft fur of its muzzle, but he was wary of his mother’s warning of the last horse he’d seen. He looked at it for a few moments longer, debating whether he should or not, before he turned back down the road and started the trek to town, attempting to refocus his attention on the looming prospect of seeing his friends. Besides, he thought to himself, if he lingered outside his mother might catch him and make him do his chores after all.

He retraced yesterday’s steps in half the time, passing the gate to the hill after only a minute and a half, continuing past down the road.

 Eldred’s first port of call was Cal’s house. It was the furthest from his, a modest farmhouse on the other side of the town. To get there, he took a path away from the town square, avoiding the market whenever he could. He didn’t like how busy it got on market days, and even on the other days of the week there were too many people for Eldred’s liking. It wasn’t that he disliked people, though. It was more that people seemed to dislike him, for no reason that he could really understand. That was one of the reasons he so regularly was sent into town in search of work- both of his friends, May and Cal, were from families with their own businesses. May’s family were cobblers, and owned a small shop in which she and most of her relatives worked. Cal’s family were farmers, working the land immediately around their house for the local lord, who’s house, Eldred had been told, was a grand building a few miles to the north. Eldred had no such connections, and so was sent to see if any of the local businesses needed an extra set of hands. The answer was usually yes, but the recurring trend was denial for Eldred. Craftsmen and other businessmen alike would reluctantly agree to take him on as a sweep or an errand boy, only for them to cut him loose as soon as another candidate became available. He’d thought, for the longest time, that it was something he was doing wrong- perhaps he was too slow, or offended someone, or any other list of excuses and bad qualities- until he’d brought up the subject with his mother. His mother had never been angry at him for the loss of the jobs he’d excitedly tell her about. Angry at his employers, yes, but that anger had never turned on him, and what she had told him the day that he’d asked had stuck with him since.

They had sat at the dinner table, his mother stitching as he ate. He’d lost another job that day, and picked at his food reluctantly. His mother was going hungry, he knew. All because he couldn’t stay employed.

She’d stopped her task, leaning over the table to look at him with some concern as she asked, “Are you feeling alright? You’re not running a temperature, are you?”

He’d shaken his head. “What am I doing wrong?” he’d asked in a quiet voice, looking back at her with equal concern, although for a different problem.

Initially she had been confused, the slight crease at her brown fading as she nodded with understanding. “I don’t think you’re doing anything wrong, El,” she said, sadly. “When he was alive, your father was something of an outcast.”

The mention of his father made him perk up, and he listened intently. “Why?” he prompted when his mother’s pause dragged a little longer than necessary.

She looked at him again, the far-away look Eldred had come to associate with his father was present in her eyes. “It’s… complicated, and not something I think you’re quite ready to hear about right now, but he was unique and magnificent, but he was also strange at times, and it was his strangeness that made people dislike him.”

The boy frowned at this, but did not interrupt as she took a breath.

“I think I told you that we moved away from where I was born, that little village by the sea?”

He nodded- she’d told him about the beaches, and the roaring waves that lapped against the shore.

“Well, we moved for that very reason. My parents- your grandparents- they… disapproved of your father, and their influence on the others in the village meant that it was unpleasant to continue living there. So your father suggested we go inland, somewhere nobody knew us, somewhere that we could live without the existing biases against us. We moved only a week later, ending up here.” She gestured at the house around them, and Eldred couldn’t help but follow, looking at the timber beams of the ceiling, and the mismatched brick walls that surrounded them. “It took a while, but people are always so wary of strangers. They seemed fine with me, but your father? His ears, like yours-” she reached out to hold them, wistful smile on her face, “- were pointed, although more so than yours are.” He lifted his own hands, feeling the points and reddening with embarrassment. His pointed ears had been a point of much teasing when he’d been even younger, and he tried to hide them when he could. “And they took an immediate dislike to him- a suspicion, even. He never did anything to spite anyone, acted polite and friendly to all he met, worked hard through any work that he was given. But their attitudes never changed. And then…” she trailed off, exhaling deeply and staring at the table between them.

Eldred shuffled uncomfortably as the silence continued, “So it’s because of dad?” he asked quietly.

“I think so, dear,” she said, reaching over to hold his hands, which were still, on the table. “Because of who and what your father was, and because you have inherited some of what made him so special.” She brushed the side of his face, cupping his cheek. “No matter what anyone tells you, Eldred, your father was a good man who deserved to be respected and treated fairly. There are parts of this story that you’re too young to understand, but none of this is your fault, okay?”

He had nodded, and the pair had moved into silence. A short while later, he had picked up his fork and finished his food, feeling better about some things and worse about others.

He remembered staying up late that night, lying in bed unable to fall asleep as he thought about what his mother had said. He wondered when he would be old enough to hear the rest? It had been three months since they’d had the conversation, and Eldred hadn’t been able to get work since. If anything, he’d become all the more aware of the stares he got and the whispers he heard as he ran past folk at the market.

A chill unrelated to the weather gnawed at him, and he pulled his coat around himself closer. He couldn’t let such thoughts get him down, he told himself, he was on his way to have fun with his friends.

May’s house was on the way to Cal’s, her family’s shop taking residence a few streets over from the market square in a row of houses with a handful of other shops alongside it. He didn’t slow as he passed, although he peered into the windows to see if he could spot his friend.

Eldred was never the one to fetch May- her parents, her father especially, seemed to take a disliking to Eldred. Instead, the routine involved fetching Cal first, and then circling back around for May, then heading up to the forest as the three of them.

He jogged a short way further, pulling out some of the food his mother had given him as he went, scarfing it down. He rounded a bend and sped up at the sight of the farmhouse, his grin already returning at the prospect of being with his friends once more.

Cal’s door was made of thick wood, and this year it was painted a bright green. Eldred stopped in front of it, drawing himself up straight and knocking as loudly as he could muster with his small hands. There was a bustle from inside, and the slide of a bolt moving, and then the door swung open to reveal Cal’s mother. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, a smudge of flour on her cheek, and she looked down at him with a raised eyebrow. Eldred’s smile faltered a little under her scrutiny.

“I’m here for Cal,” he said, his voice wavering a little to begin with but strengthening as the sentence continued.

She looked at him for a few long moments, calculating, and then nodded toward the gate beside the house. “He’s out in the yard, he needs to bring in the eggs and then he can go,” she said, emphasising ‘then’ in such a way that suggested dire consequences if the work went unfinished.

The boy nodded with enthusiasm, calling a thanks as he ran around the side of the house into the aforementioned yard. Cal was, as predicted, scattering feed for the hens that clucked and shuffled around the paved area. He looked up at the sound of footsteps, a grin breaking out on his face as he saw Eldred.

“You’re early,” he said, taking the last handful from his bucket and throwing it out to the chickens. “You got no chores?”

Eldred nodded, mirroring the grin. “Mum had a visitor’n said I could go. Your mum says you can once you’ve got the eggs.”

The other boy rolled his eyes at the inconvenience and hurried over the coop that crouched in the corner of the yard, sharing two walls with the main house and the barn that protruded from the back. He scooped up a bucket as he moved in through the door and started work. Eldred followed, peering inside as Cal checked the egg boxes and even under a hen for eggs, putting them gently into his bucket. The process took about five minutes, and with one final check he nodded with satisfaction and stepped back out, lifting the bucket up for Eldred to see.

“All done!” he announced, running over to the farmhouse’s back door and disappearing inside briefly. When he reemerged without the bucket, Eldred joined him and the two of them left the yard and started running down the road back toward May’s house.

Eldred waited outside, leaning against the wall of the shop beside the glass window that made up the shop front. Inside were pairs of shoes made from a variety of leathers and canvas. He paid little attention to the display- the sight was mundane to him, and May had complained about so much of the cobbling process that he was sure that he could have assembled a shoe himself. Cal was inside, and had been for a few minutes now. The only problem with coming out early, the boy reflected, was that there was a lot more waiting as his friends finished their own chores. He wished he could go in himself to at least know what was going on, and perhaps speed the process along a little. He let out a long sigh and sank a little lower on the wall, looking up at the cloudy sky. The sun hadn’t stayed visible for long after he’d left home, with a bank of grey clouds closing in while he was part-way to Cal’s house.

The door opened, bell ringing with the movement, and May skipped out with Cal trailing not far behind. She looked annoyed, not bothering to catch the door like she usually did, instead letting it slam. She didn’t say anything to Eldred, turning straight in the direction of the field and woods and starting her march onward.

Cal shrugged at Eldred’s questioning look, and the two hurried to catch up.