Nomas

I lay awake in my cot listening to the rain, it had been falling hard all night. The rain came earlier than expected and the repairs of the canals, levies and ponds were not yet completed, I knew this would be a back breaking day. On days like today it wouldn’t have mattered if you were a builder or a field-hand all of us would be out in the rain, trudging through the mud trying to move it and keep the water from washing out the fields and flooding the cabins. The bell is ringing and the commands to get dressed and ready to work are sounded. The orders are given and the men in my cabin are sent to dig a ditch on the far side of the field. We need to get the water to go into the reserve pond. I think, “This should have been done in the dry months, we waited too long.” We trudge through the mud with our shovels and picks, I see the builders come with their lumber and bags of sand, to support and brace the walls of mud. The rain is relentless, we are soaked to the bone. The mud sticks to the bottom of our shoes and makes each step heavier as we slog our way to the field. Our supervisors tell us to start shoveling the mud to the side. We obey and as we shovel the mud it washes and puddles back to where it was before. I look around in frustration and wonder if anyone has a better plan. I hear an order for carts and more sandbags to be brought out with the mules. I wonder, “Do we wait for the carts or keep shoveling mud that refuses to stay?” I look to the man, next to me and he just keeps on shoveling the mud waiting for orders to stop. I see something coming down the road. “What is that?” It looks like a lot of carts and horses not mules. They look even from a far distance to be larger than any of the ones I’ve seen before. The Field-master blows his horn and shouts an order, “Go back to your cabins!” I see the Protectors running toward us, yelling at us to get back to the cabin, to keep our eyes down, to move quickly now! We all start running toward our cabin. I am frightened and wonder if what I saw earlier was invading enemies? Were we under attack? I keep running, the mud is slick and keeping traction was getting more difficult with each step. Fear keeps me moving toward safety, toward the cabins. I looked up and saw more Protectors running into the fields and ordering us, “Keep your eyes down! Move it!” I look down as commanded. I felt relieved, “These invaders would be no match for our great and mighty Protectors.” I could hear the invader’s animals. I had to look up and see if we were going to make it to our cabins. The caravan kept coming ominously towards us. The Protectors lined up at the edge of the road. The horn blew again. We are not going to make it to the cabins in time. I start to panic. The Captain of the Protectors barked out his orders, "Kneel! Look down! Do not look upon the strangers!" We all got on our knees, we all looked down. I felt the mud sliding beneath me. I fell, face first in the mud just as the caravan was passing. I pushed up to regain my balance and slipped again. I heard laughter from a child. I looked up to see, and I saw great large horses pulling the carts and hideously large dogs that walked beside the cart. In the back of the drivers was a small child, who had a hood pulled over, but a wisp of her hair was free, and it was red as fire. I then felt a blow to my head. "Eyes down!" I fell into the mud again. Curiosity overwhelmed me, I had to look. I took a chance, and I kept my head down, and looked up. There was something that wasn't quite right, but I was struck again and blacked out before I understood what I saw. I had a terrible headache when I woke. Someone must have carried me back to the cabin and put me in my cot. Dinner was already served, my bowl was not full, the stew was cold, and the bread was half eaten and stale. I ate what was left, hating those who ate what was mine. My head was pounding, and I still had mud everywhere, in the stubble of hair on my head, my face, even in my ears. I went to the washroom, and the bell rang, time for bed. I would have to wait till morning to wash. I was not looking forward to sleeping with mud all over myself. I lay there with the dried mud, and I start to pick at my face and ears, getting what mud I could off. I wondered what happened today, and if anyone would talk about it? Who were the strangers? Were they chased out of our community? I lay there listening to the men, they told stories of the old days, some of the pre-History days, but very few said anything about today. To my embarrassment there was laughter at the mention of mud-face Nomas. As I drifted off to sleep it came to me, what was odd about the cart. The wheels didn't leave any marks! The wheels were turning, but not touching the mud! But that can't be right. My head must be playing tricks on me. The next morning, I woke before the rooster crowed or the morning bell. It was a cold morning and the rain continued. I went to the washroom and began to wash yesterday's mud off. My mind drifted to the strangers and their caravan. I thought about the young child's hair. I had never seen red hair. It was truly astonishing; I didn't know hair could be such color. Everything about them was foreign to me. I’ve never heard of them passing over the Community's land before, but I am young, only fourteen Summers. We have horses and mules for work in the fields, but the stranger’s horses were monstrously huge. The dogs were the size of our mules, but much broader through the chest. They were as black as night without the moon and their heads were big enough to bite off a man's head. I shivered at the thought of this. We, The Community, did not have dogs. We believe that dogs cannot be trusted, they are vicious animals. I think these strangers must be vicious people, to walk with such beasts. The carts were sleek and shone brightly even on our gray and rainy day. All of the strangers wore different colored cloaks, and their faces were hidden from my sight. I wondered about that, they all had different colors on, did it signify what work they did like what we have here in The Community?