Millard stood on his porch, his hands shoved inside his pockets. The fabric wrapped around his body was poorly made, almost falling off of him it was so thin. His eyes drifted over the fields that rolled over the hills and up the small mountain he lived by. He could smell the meat from his neighbors cooking in their smoking tree. His stomach growled loudly as he took in the smell.

He knew that he would be eating much later that night when his parents returned home from the market where they had been gone for a fortnight or so. He worried his lip in between his teeth as he leaned against the weak door frame. The gravely noise of the feedback from the radio took over his mind, causing him to turn and look back into the house. His sister had her sleeves rolled up around her shoulder in a desperate attempt to avoid getting overheated. The sweat seemed to roll off of them in great waves as the heat cascaded over the house.

When the older sibling noticed him looking, she smiled a little, "Millard, please go open the windows upstairs so we can air out the bedding."

"Yes Rhoda," Millard said, rushing into the house carefully as to make sure he didn't kick up the layer of dust that was coating the ground. He ran up the stairs, walking past the cramped spaces between the beds. He pressed his hands underneath the decaying wood of the window as he forced it open. They were still lucky enough to have large sheets of glass inside of the wood, unlike some of their neighbors who had had to sell their window panes.

When Millard came tromping back down the steep stairs, he was met by another girl in their house. She was dressed similar to Rhoda, with a thin cotton layer of pink fabric falling over her thin body. "Millard!" she said, her face lighting up in a bright smile. "Rhoda has told me a lot about you."

"Who are you?" the young boy asked, hovering at the last step with his hand still pressed against the cool wooden walls.

"Oh, my name is Bronwyn," the girl said, turning and facing the young boy.

"She's going to be helping me clean today," Rhoda said quickly, still clenching the broom in her overworked hands.

"I thought I was helping you today," Millard said, the hurt in his voice just slightly escaping from the lump in his throat.

"Oh, sweetie, you can still help me. I just need some extra help today," Rhoda said, rushing over to her brother and picking him up and a hug.

"Okay," Millard sniffled, rubbing his face with his hands after his sister had put him back down.

"Can you go out to the neighbors and ask if they have some flour from their mill that we can borrow? I need to make some bread tonight," his older sister asked. Millard nodded eagerly as he turned around and sprinted out of the door. He slowly came to a walk as he noticed a boy around the same age as the girl inside and Rhoda leaned against the gate.

"Watch out kid, the wolves are out today," the boy growled, his voice low and husky as he watched him walk, his eyes were unblinking and bone-chillingly terrifying to the young child. Millard only walked past him, keeping his mouth clamped shut instead of asking questions like he so desired.

The young child ran to the neighbors, completing the chore quickly as he turned back to go home with a paper bag full of white powder. As he returned, he heard the two voices from the other people that had been at his house only moments ago. Millard quickly ducked behind one of the leafless trees, keeping himself completely hidden as they walked past.

"Victor, I thought I told you not to scare the kid," Bronwyn growled.

"I didn't," Victor snapped back at her. "Was telling the truth."

"How is this kid supposed to know what that means! He's four!" she chided.

"I knew what that meant by the time I was four!"

"You did not! I didn't, and we're the same age, so don't even try to pull that crap."

"Language sis," Victor snorted.

"One of these days, you're going to get someone in big trouble because you scared them. Do you remember that story Ms. P. used to tell us? The one about the boy who ran into the woods and got eaten by bears," Bronwyn asked.

"Of course I do, that was always your favorite one. And now the new girl Claire loves it."

"You're going to make that story come true," she audibly sighed as she continued to talk, though their voices soon became too far away for Millard to hear. He didn't understand what they had said, and questions began to flood his mind as he walked back to the farm that his parents ran.