She woke up before the sun, shivering from the draft through her broken window. It had been taped up with newspaper, but the chill still seeped in through the night.

She quickly pulled on her old overalls and a flannel shirt over the long underwear she wore to bed. Over that, she put on a gray sweater, worn with age, that her grandmother used to wear around the farm. The smell of her grandmother had long since been washed out and replaced with her own scent. The house itself had been cleansed of the smells of her grandmother and her father, her mother and sister. It smelled of her grandfather: liquor and sweat, metal and dust.

She slinked down the stairs, attempting to skip the creak emitting spots. Her fingers danced lightly along the railing.

Leena kept her boots outside the kitchen in the mud room. She did not want to keep cleaning up mud she tracked in from outside.

Grandfather was meticulous about certain things in the house. Every day, he made sure she had the floors and the walls clean. She was also responsible for the kitchen, making meals, and doing laundry. They also kept chickens for which she was also responsible. If something was not done well or properly, Grandfather became irate, so she had learned quickly it was better to just do what she was told and avoid the consequences.

Her hair whipped back in the brisk wind; her cheeks stung pink. The sun was edging up beyond the trees, but it was still too early for it to make a difference in the light. Water from the long grass soaked the edges of her overalls. Her boots squelched loudly and joined the chorus of the wind and leaves.

She reached for the handle of the shed where they kept the chicken feed.

“Hey,” called a voice from behind her. She thrust open the shed, clasped her hand around a small shovel, and turned around.

Bo stood with his hands up in a defensive position and his eyebrows arched high. His blond hair had dried unkempt and stuck out from the right side of his head. He was wearing her dad’s long shirt and jeans which bagged around his waist. He was wearing her dad’s clothes.

A sudden burst of wind briefly whipped at Bo, causing his hair to spike into peaks and his clothes to wrinkle and flow. Leena pushed her hair back with her free hand.

“H-Hey,” she said.

“You’re up early,” he commented, dropping his hands at his side.

“The chickens need to eat.” His eyes darted towards the chicken coop.

“Oh, I see,” he replied, putting his hands in his pockets. Leena kept him in her peripheral vision while she grabbed the bucket of feed.

She felt his eyes on her as he stood watching her fill up the food dishes for the chickens. She also changed out their water.

“How many chickens do you have?” Bo asked. She hesitated.

“Four.”

She put the chicken feed back in the shed.

“Where are they?”

“In the coop,” she replied, but then she paused. She looked over at him and saw his mouth turn down and his eyes grow serious.

“In the…they are in the coop,” she repeated and glanced over at their small hen house.

Leena stepped carefully to the front of the coop.

Wind. Leaves. The squelch of her boots. The smell of wet grass.

The wind stilled, and the earth was silent.

Her fingers touched the edge of the main door of the coop.

Silence.

Leena’s heart drummed.

Something fell away from her, seeped out from inside her, and dissipated in the still air. She was left cold and nauseous.

She opened the door to an empty coop.

“I…I feed them every day,” Leena said in a daze, “But…where did they go?” She stood straight.

“Where…where are the birds?” she asked, realizing there was no cheerful chirping or tweeting.

“What happened? Why…Where are the squirrels?” She turned to Bo, gripping her shovel tighter.

Bo stepped toward her, and she started to back up.

“What happened to them? Where are they? Where did all the animals go?” she started to pace about wildly, mud splattered on her overalls.

“Hey, hey now, calm down,” Bo said, “Breathe a minute. It’s all right.”

“No,” she said more loudly, “I can’t believe it. Wouldn’t I notice it?”

“No, it’s not your fault, Leena,” Bo said, reaching his arms out to her, “Let’s talk a bit.”

“But I always feed the chickens. Why…Their food bowls! They are…” She saw the neglected mountain of seed, piled up and untouched.

“Leena, let’s go back to the house.”

She pointed her shovel at him, “What is happening? You did something! Where did they go?”

“I…they haven’t been here in a while,” he sighed, “Let’s talk somewhere inside.” Cold went through her spine like an inching pile of maggots.

“Then…Icherrun. The town nearby. Is…” she trailed off and turned her head toward the road.

“You can visit later, but let’s talk. I was gonna wait to tell you, but I’m actually here for you.”

“What?”

“You don’t remember me?” he asked, now sounding a bit exasperated, “Look, it’s complicated, so let’s just go back to the house.”

She remembered her grandfather and his warning. The fear maggots inside ate away at her bout of anxiety and sharpened her focus on the things that made sense: keeping Grandfather happy and keeping out of trouble.

“Ah, wait. Sure just…just let me finish the chores before…” she trailed off, and she eyed the laundry bin hanging on the side of the house.

“I just need to finish laundry before Grandfather wakes up,” she said. She saw Bo’s mouth twist up in frustration.

“Fine, fine. Let me help. We’ll get it done quickly.”

“No, no, it is better if you don’t. Just…go back and wait for breakfast. I have to make breakfast for Grandfather when he wakes up. Just…go back,” she replied as his face tightened like a screw.

He did not reply, but instead, he grimly clenched his jaw and went returned to the house, mud sinking him into the ground with each heavy step.

“And don’t track mud inside!” she called, heading towards the laundry basin. He gave her a half-hearted wave without looking back at her.