WHEN EARTH MEETS THE SKY

Chapter 4

Langlen plucked a marigold growing by the side of the hill path and tucked it behind her left ear. She followed her cows slowly, humming a soft folk melody that echoed gently in the morning air.

The two calves sometimes ran ahead, their small legs moving quickly as they reached patches of fresh grass. They would stop there and nibble the tender shoots, then wait for their mothers to catch up.

When they had reached about halfway to the grazing hills, one of the calves suddenly let out a distressed cry.

"Moo... moo..."

The sound was sharper than usual, almost like a call for help.

Langlen immediately ran forward. One of the mother cows also began running, calling anxiously for her calf.

When Langlen reached them, she saw what had happened.

One of the calf’s legs was trapped between several cut tree trunks lying beside the road. Someone had recently cut the trees and stacked them there on a small flat area near the path, probably to collect later for furniture making or perhaps for selling in the market. The wood still looked fresh, the pale inner bark exposed where the trees had been cut.

Langlen could not understand how the accident had happened. The calves had run ahead of her as they usually did, while she followed the cows at their steady pace. Perhaps the calf had climbed onto the stacked logs and slipped, its leg sliding down and getting stuck between them.

She bent down and tried to move the logs, but they were far too heavy for her.

The mother cow ran around nervously, calling again and again.

"Moo... moo..."

Langlen tried to pull the calf gently, but it was impossible to free the leg alone.

She stood up and called out loudly for help toward the nearby paths where villagers sometimes passed.

"Is anyone there? Please help!"

Her voice echoed across the quiet hillside, but no one answered. It was still early morning, and most villagers were probably busy in their fields during the harvesting season.

Langlen knelt beside the calf again. She slowly poured some water from her tumba onto its trapped leg, hoping it might ease the pressure. Then she tried once more to move the logs, pushing with all her strength.

But the heavy wood did not move.

Just then, suddenly, one of the logs shifted.

A pair of strong hands pushed the tree trunk aside and freed the calf's leg.

Langlen looked up in surprise.

A stranger stood beside the fallen logs. A British man.

Not a soldier exactly. He wore fine riding clothes, but no uniform. His skin looked pale in the cool morning light, and his dark hair had been blown loose by the wind from the hills. Behind him, a tall horse stood quietly on the narrow path.

"Good morning!" he called in English, his voice cheerful, almost as if they were old friends meeting by chance.

Langlen lowered her eyes quickly.

She knew only a few English words that she had heard from traders who sometimes passed through the village. Yes. No. How much. None of those words helped her now.

The man seemed to understand.

His smile faded a little. "You don't... right. Of course not." He paused and lifted one hand slightly in a gesture of apology. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

Langlen said nothing. She made a small gesture with her hands to show thanks for helping the calf. Then she clicked her tongue softly.

"Ro… ro…"

The cows began to move forward again along the narrow hill path. They passed the horse carefully, keeping a wide distance from the unfamiliar animal. The calf limped for a few steps, then followed its mother.

Langlen walked behind them.

She did not look back at the stranger.

If the village boys saw her standing and talking with a saheb, they would laugh and tease her for weeks. Worse than that, her mother would worry and cry.

So Langlen kept walking, guiding the cows toward the grazing hills as the morning mist slowly lifted from the valley.

She wore a cotton phanek, her long hair braided down her back. She looked about his age, maybe younger, George thought. He found himself unable to look away.

"I'm George," he tried again, softer.

She risked one glance. His smile was crooked, almost shy. For half a heartbeat something tightened in her chest.

She looked away quickly. Then shame rushed in hot behind it. She turned and walked faster, the switch tapping her leg like a warning. Behind her, the hoofbeats stayed still. She could feel his eyes on back all the way around the bend. Then he laughed at himself, and turned his horse back toward the residency.