“Elle, Elle!” Recognising my name, I slowly lift myself upright. Too fast and I will feel dizzy. I look over at one of the few people who will work a field with me. He isn’t looking at me. It cannot be him then. Tam and I are in one of 12 fields which we are dealing with. There are a few dozen other field groups which others are looking after. Raking my gaze across the fenceline, I stop on an energetic figure standing on the bottom rail of the fence. Almun. I wave back, pointing to the end of the row ahead of me. They will have to wait for me there. He was reticent to test out a new pronoun where others could hear. I was honoured when he confided in my mother and me.

  By the time I have arrived at the end of the row, Almun is fidgeting and tapping their foot. The boots they received as part of their messenger gear are lovely – supple, durable leather which receive proper oilings to maintain their structure. One day I will have boots like those.

  “How can I help, Al?” I ask, stretching my shoulders.

  “Hi Elle,” he is usually cheerful, but a genuine grin stretches over his face as I watch him. “I’m on my way to Drummon’s but Allie said to send you over for the tools. Bye!” He leaves a pouch on the top rail of the fence – several coins stacked beside it. His voice squeaked at the end there. I shake my head; he swears his voice is going to break soon but it remains squeaky. His presence lifts my mood somewhat. It is difficult to be surly when energy radiates off him in waves.

  I sweep the loose coins into my pocket. That means I won’t have to go into the bursar’s office to collect my pay tonight. They are thoughtful – perhaps mother encouraged them to make my evening easier. The bursar does not tolerate those who do not follow the ‘divine plan’. As though discovering your true inner self is not a divine revelation of its own.

  Almun’s hasty footsteps leave only a faint impression in the dusty road. The cobblestones have not yet arrived this far out of town. When I reach the paved area, my feet complain from the extra hardness underneath them. I skirt the difficult parts of town where those who work inside during the day will take any opportunity to make my day worse. The smith is on the other side – away from most of the houses and towards where the deliveries are easiest to unload. Allie’s thick arms and chest are visible through the side of the forge as she deals with metal and furnace to create tools and other things for her clients.

  “Elle. Good morn.” She takes me in with a cursory glance, before continuing to draw out a billet. I have spoken to her on several occasions about what she does and the terms for different things. If I was ‘normal’ I would be able to apprentice to a smith. For now, there are too many ill-wishers close to her for me to be happy during the workday. The fields are the next best option.

  She shoves the metal into the furnace beside several other lengths of dull metal, turning and striding into the building behind her. I follow, breathing in the sweat and heat from the workshop area. It smells wonderful.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Here.” Allie refuses to speak more than she needs to. I clutch the pair of boots she shoved at me, brow furrowed.

  “Who are these for?” Looking up at her, the grim set of her face is unchanged. For a moment I think I see the corners of her mouth twitch. That would be the first time I’ve seen her smile. If it wasn’t a trick of the light. The windows let in natural light, but with the angles, it is impossible to confirm if it was a smile.

  “You. I’ll meet you outside with the tools.”

  The boots remain in my hands. I half expect them to dissolve in the sunlight or something. Who would do this? I don’t know anyone with this kind of money. And for me? I work in the fields – not on the roads. I can barely breathe from the unexpectedness of it all. These cannot be for me. I could not afford a pair of these shoes for years yet. Perhaps they were addressed to Elly and were mistakenly delivered to me. They do not appear to be her size. It must be a mistake. I place the boots carefully on the nearest surface and go through the door to the street. Thankfully Allie has already manoeuvred the cart full of scythe blades and sickles to the front of the shop. I would not have made the transition so easily.

  “Thank you.” I move to take the handle of the cart to push it towards the fields where I will stow the contents in the workshed.

  “Stop.” I look around, confused. Allie is frowning at me. I wait for her to go on. I don’t know what might have gone wrong with the cart – I checked it before I brought it over with the tools to be repaired and sharpened. I release the handles, moving to check the timber and metal parts.

  “No, why are you not wearing your boots?”

  Looking up at her from where I am looking at the left wheel, I sit on my haunches.

  “It must be some mistake. I cannot afford those boots for years. I left them for their true owner.” I give her an apologetic smile. Someone else paid for them. I cannot take someone else’s things, no matter how nice they are.

  I cringe at the thunderous look on Allie’s face.

  “They were made for you, infuriating woman. Wear them proudly.”

  “I…” I don’t understand. Made for me? How? Who knows the size of my feet? I blink up at her, her frame almost twice as wide as me. I am supposed to have broad shoulders according to my mother, but Allie is enormous. I wish she would crush me in one broad fist. I think it would feel comforting. She does not like to be touched, so that will have to remain a dream.

  “Sorry,” I wrench my thoughts back to the present. “It sounded like you said they were made for me? That can’t be right. I have shoes already.” I point at the hopeless mish-mash of stitching and patchwork on my feet.

  With a grunt, she whirls and in moments has reappeared with the boots in hand.

  Without a word she places them in front of me, crossing her thick, corded arms and staring down at me. The instructions are clear.

  Hanging my head, I quickly remove my old shoes and pull on the boots. I cannot suppress and moan of delight at the feeling of the soft material lining the bottom of the boot. I have never felt anything so comfortable. Once I pull on the second boot, Allie swoops to take my previous pair and tosses them into the forge fire. With a grunt she nods at me, gesturing for me to be on my way.

  I have new boots. And someone who bought them for me. It was not my mother. She would have told me. I will have to ask someone for boot oil. I make a mental note to do so as I lift the two wheeled cart and push it around the edge of town. My steps are lighter than ever, as if the wind is pushing me along.

  I don’t understand how this happened, but Allie was adamant. If anyone asks, I can say that Allie would not let me leave without them. And she destroyed the only other pair that I have.

  No one argues with Allie.