The drought came in the second year.
William noticed it first in the fields—the cracks in the soil, the wilting leaves, the slow death of the crops. The villagers noticed it next, as the wells began to dry and the streams shrank to trickles. Then the animals noticed it, their lowing growing desperate, their bodies growing thin.
William stood at the edge of the wheat field, his hand on a stalk that had turned brown. The sun beat down on his back, hot and relentless.
"We need water," Elara said, coming to stand beside him.
"We need rain."
"The rain isn't coming."
William looked at the sky. It was a clear, hard blue, cloudless and unforgiving.
"Then we find water."
---
The village gathered in the square that night.
William stood at the center, his face calm, his voice steady. Torche
