The barn smelled better than it had, that was certain. Cleaning was the worst chore of all, and she was glad to be rid of it. The only cost was some pig slop, so what did it matter? When she went to feed the animals, and to let them out to roam, she went on and on about this and that, the gossip and the aches she had when she woke in the morning, little things that her husband tired of hearing. Greta would've felt silly talking only to herself, which she thought she likely was doing, considering the apparent deficit of the barn-dweller; nevertheless it felt nice to be as chatty as she liked.
It was always hunched over, and it stood and walked at an odd angle. From beneath its ratty cloak, Greta thought this child must have a hump, and a pretty big one at that. But it never spoke, just hummed sometimes, and it did as it was supposed to without doing any wrong.
She told her girl-friend across the way about her hired help a good time later, after the child in the barn was somewhat trusted, and she didn't fear harm from gossip any longer. The children didn't need to know, though, because they wouldn't understand. Greta told her about the unfortunate and Yan's immediate, rushed whisper of a reply was, "Is the child so terribly ugly?"
Greta shrugged, sipping at her tea as they sat on Yan's porch. "I'm assuming so. Wretched, it is, with its hump. My husband saw it burying the pile outside the other day, he just screwed up his face and said he didn't want to look at it."
"Greta, dear," Yan whispered, furrowing her brow, "Haven't you seen its face? Can't you tell if it's a boy or a girl or something?"
Thinking, Greta realized she didn't know. She hadn't cared. Shuddering, she knew that if she saw its face and it was as she imagined it, she'd have a much harder time allowing it to stay. "Oh, I wish you hadn't asked; now I'll have to find out," Greta whined aloud, nestling her teacup miserably into its saucer.
Yan set her cup down as well, glancing about to see that their children were involved in a game of some sort, and could surely be without their supervision for a moment. Grinning, she whispered, "I'll go with. My father was a butcher, after all, so I can stomach quite a-"
"Oh, right now?" Greta murmured, wringing her hands dramatically. "Well, you look and I'll keep my eyes shut."
---
Greta let them into the barn and stepped about to find the child. There was a faint grinding sound coming from the back, as there usually was. In the dim light, she saw it rising slowly from a rest upon the straw. Its hands dropped down from inside its hood, holding a hoof file that it carefully placed back upon its hook. It wasn't hurting the file, so Greta didn't mind whatever it was doing with the thing. "Come here, child," Greta called, as she often did, but without the warmth the phrase held when she used it towards her own children.
As the little creature shuffled forward, Yan shot Greta a shocked look. Yan had thought Greta's description of the hump's size was just another exaggeration – it clearly wasn't.
"Now, you know I've been awful generous to you, letting you stay here for weeks, now. But if I'm to let you stay, you'll need to let me and my friend here see your face," Greta explained, crossing her arms as she stood just behind Yan.
The child did nothing, either weighing the options or unable to understand them at all. But after a pregnant pause, it began to trudge around the women, for the door. It was, as always, bent over at an angle due to the hump between its shoulder blades.
"Well, goodness, all this kindness I show you, and you leave without saying thank you? We only want to see your face. No need to be shy about it."
"I grew up 'round the butcher's shop," Yan chimed in, "Whatever you're looking like, I promise I've seen worse."
"Yeah, and there's Nelson, up the road, he lost his nose and part of his cheek to that infection, we grew up around him," Greta added, realizing that her curiosity was getting the better of her.
Yan shuffled over to bend near the dirty, smelly thing, and she leaned as close as she could bear to. "We have kids your age," she added, guessing the thing's age to be about what Greta thought, about 10, "we're mothers. We like to see kids' faces. Not all the faces folk have are nice to look at, they come in all shapes and colors and things. So why not just lift that up from around your face a little and give Aunt Yan and Aunt Greta here a peek, ok?"
The little hunched figure shifted, swing itself side to side slightly, as children do when thinking. Its dirty fingers touched the sides of its hood and hesitantly lifted the cloth, just to its eyes.
Greta tried to distinguish the expression on silent Yan's face. Was it shock, horror? It seemed more like awe! She stepped gingerly behind her friend and stooped down to see into the child's hood.
Creamy, pale skin was marked with smears of filth and a few little sores, but was otherwise smooth and fair. The little mouth was pursed tightly shut, with lips the color of ripe strawberries. A tangle of muddy but blonde hair fell between its eyes, large, lovely eyes, framed with long lashes, sparkling with a hue of green and blue mixed together. Greta crossed herself as she breathed in sharply. A little soap and water, and this was the most beautiful child she'd ever seen!
The child's eyes darted around nervously. They were staring at it, mouths hanging open in an expression that could have bad or good. But it realized that the attention itself was a good thing, and it felt a smile coming upon its face. Its dirty fingers came up to cover the smile, as its eyes darted between the two women's faces.
"What a pretty face," Yan murmured despite herself, eyes stuck to the child's.
"Darling, why would you hide a pretty face like that?" Greta asked, hushed, almost reaching out to touch it, but pulling away from the smell and the grime. "You shouldn't hide it. Now can you show your Aunt Yan if you're a boy or a girl? Show me the part between your legs, ok?"
It wondered if it was a boy or a girl, too, whatever that meant, so it did as asked. It closed its mouth and let its hands tug up the folds of the cloth about it, waited for Yan to register the answer, and let the drapings fall back to cover it.
"See there, you're a pretty girl," Yan exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "It makes sense to cover up your hump, darling, but there's no need to cover up your whole self!"
The little girl was filled with joy at this, and, inhibitions forgotten, clapped her hands together and hopped up and down happily (made awkward by her constantly-bent over posture). Her cloth remained upon her only thanks to a couple of knots at the shoulder, but the hood part fell back against her hump. Eyes squinting from her wide open grin, she was so pleased that she'd no longer need to cover up like that.
With a thud, Greta fainted onto the barn floor. Yan would have checked on her friend, but was too shocked to move.
The child was confused, but not saddened by their reaction, since it was something she hadn't seen before. The people at the plant place twisted their faces up at her, they didn't fall down or let their mouths hang open. She shuffled back to the wall to grab the file and moved back towards the women, continuing to file horizontally at her teeth as her eyes darted around.
Greta came to and was crossing herself feverishly. "Let's go, Yan," she choked out, face pale.
Yan nodded slightly and shuffled away, friends leaning against each other, but her eyes did not leave the child.
The girl began to feel that she had done something wrong, and tears welled in her eyes as she tugged her hood back to cover her head with her free hand. She watched the women leave and squinted when sunlight burst momentarily through the door. Her back hurt, as did her chest, and she sobbed as well as a child with all-pointed teeth could sob as she crawled back to the straw nest. Sensitive, pointed ears with piqued hearing could just make out the excited words of the women as they walked from the barn, until the sound faded and was replaced by whimpers.