Mist on Water by Shea Berkley

for supper. A misplaced hope if ever there was one. As soon as I stepped foot in town, startled glances followed me. If I kept my head down, going about my business, I would be done and gone in no time. Alas, it was just my luck that the widow Jens, who lived near Nari, stopped me on my way home only steps from the market corner.
    She leaned heavily on her walking stick as her watery gaze questioned who she saw. “Is that you, Ryne?”
    “It is.” I said, though I would have preferred to dart past now that my errands were over and done.
    She patted along my arm, her fingers sizing up my growth, and smiled. “My, my. But aren’t you a nice fit lad for a lonely nix.”
    She cackled, and I could feel my body tense at her words. I darted my gaze down the street, seeing other’s slow their steps to listen. Her breath wheezed in and out, shaking her body like a dried piece of leaf. “Obeying your parents, I see.”
    “I am.” I hefted the items in my arms so that even she could see I was busy.
    Her gaze wandered my face. “Such a shame you’re cursed. You would have made a handsome man.”
    A tic found my cheek, and though I tried to hide it, the bite of annoyance found my voice. “Thank you.”
    I wriggled free and slipped quickly into the nearest door which thankfully was a darkened pub. I stood at the frosted window and peered outside at the crowd milling near the widow. I could just imagine the gossip. The tale resurrected yet again. Did they never grow tired of it?
    A hand landed on my shoulder, and I twirled around. The smiling faces of Gordie and Tait stared back. Gordie let go and held out his hand. “Ryne, it’s good to see you.”
    I took it and offered him a smile. It had been a long time since I’d shared one with a friend.
    “It is,” Tait added after taking a sip of his ale. “God’s truth, I didn’t know you were still alive.”
    I cast an irritated look at him and turned to Gordie. “I heard you left.”
    “I did. Our mule kicked Father and broke his ribs, so I’m helping with the crops until he recovers.” He leaned close. “Between you and me, I miss it here.”
    I could not relate. If I were ever offered a position away, I would jump at it. Sadly, whenever a position opened, the villagers always managed to bring up the curse until even the smallest of opportunities open to my friends remained firmly closed to me.
    “Come. Have a drink.”
    The publican cast a jaundiced eye on me, but seeing as I was with Gordie and Tait, he said naught. We sat at a table and within the hour we were arm wrestling like we used to do when we were young. Though Gordie and Tait were eight and ten, I beat them both two out of three tries thanks to the back breaking work of hauling huge stones and splitting them all day.
    Gordie laughed off his loss good naturedly, and we fell into an easy companionship. No mention of Nari passed between us. He seemed to understand the growing pains I continued to endure when it came to her.
    Tait was another matter entirely. He wallowed in his loss, and his drink, until he slammed his tankard on the table. “How about a swim?” Tait lurched to his feet and yelled at the other patrons. “Would not we all like to see Ryne take a long swim in the lake?”
    Gordie tugged Tait back into his seat and snarled at him to shut up, but Tait wouldn’t listen. He leaned forward, his breath a nauseous mix as he challenged, “Well, Ryne? How about it?”
    The smirk on his face irritated me more than the fearful stares of those listening. I downed the last of my ale and stared back. The drink sat heavy in my stomach; its false warmth colored my cheeks, but unlike Tait, my brains remained intact. “No thanks.” I shot a quick glance at Gordie. “I should be getting back. It was good to see you again.”
    “That’s right Ryne,” Tait called as I headed for the door, “Run home and hide. Maybe the nix won’t find you.”
    As his laughter filled the pub, something inside me snapped.