Sarah wiped down the wooden kitchen counter, drying the last earthenware bowl before putting it away. She took a deep breath, picked up two worn pottery jars from the porch, and handed one to Ben.
"It's time for the hives, Ben," Sarah said, her voice carrying a hint of fatigue beneath the busy energy of harvest season. "The flowers bloomed well this year, so the honey should be plentiful. We need to gather it before the frost comes." She adjusted the strap on her own jar. "Tomorrow morning, we take it to the market." This honey was the farm's most crucial income before winter settled in.
The strap dug into Ben's shoulder, but he took the jar gladly, clumsily slinging it over his back. He loved going to the apiary with Sarah – loved the dappled sunlight through the leaves, loved the sight of the bees swirling like a living cloud.
They walked along the path behind the house towards the apiary on the hillside. Sarah watched Ben humming his tuneless little song, a wave of complicated emotion washing over her.
Ever since her husband Jack vanished in that cursed blizzard five years ago, half their world had collapsed.
When Jack was here, he'd been a good logger – strong, well-liked. He'd brought home fresh meat several times a week – rabbit sometimes, or bacon from town. The kitchen had always smelled wonderful. Times had been lean, yes, but there had been hope.
After Jack disappeared, everything changed.
The pittance from the logging crew's compensation fund was quickly swallowed by back taxes on the apiary and debts left from Jack's tools. Sarah had shouldered the farm's burden alone.
Ben was willing and strong, good for the heavy chores. But expecting him to work a job like other men, or understand ledgers and deals? Impossible.
Yet Sarah knew she could never abandon him. It was her promise to Jack, and a duty etched deep within her. Life became a careful calculation, every penny split in two. Keeping food on the table and surviving the winter became the only goals. Meat? That was a distant memory.
"Sell honey! Trade for leg of lamb!" Ben suddenly announced loudly, breaking Sarah's reverie. He licked his lips, his eyes filled with a child's longing. "Ben no eat lamb long time!"
Sarah's heart pinched. Leg of lamb? Who wouldn't want it? But they needed the money.
She managed a weak smile, reaching up to smooth Ben's wind-tousled hair. "Soon, Ben. When your brother comes back, we'll have meat. Lots and lots of lamb leg. As much as you want."
She hadn't told Ben Jack was dead, only that he'd gone far away and would be gone a long time.
Sarah's eyes stung. She turned her face away, looking towards the apiary growing closer, and breathed in the honey-scented air, willing her voice steady.
"Alright now, we need to gather the honey. Maybe… maybe tomorrow, after we sell it, Sarah will buy you a little piece of cream cake." She deflected with a promise.
"Yes! Gather honey!" Ben's attention snapped to the task. He broke into a happy trot.
Soon, they stood amidst their apiary. October sunlight streamed down, illuminating the bees in their busy flight. Closing your eyes, the air hummed with their reassuring drone.
Seeing the abundance lifted some of Sarah's recent gloom. A genuine smile touched her lips. "Look, Ben! This year's harvest is good! We'll work hard, and tomorrow it'll fetch a fine price!"
"Yes! Sell! Buy cake!" Ben nodded vigorously. He grabbed the veiled bee suit and hood hanging from a branch and started pulling them on.
"Wait! Ben!" Sarah moved fast, grabbing his arm. "Not so sudden! You'll startle the bees! Startled bees sting, and the honey turns sour! Then it won't sell well." She explained patiently. "Here, watch me. Help keep them calm." She demonstrated a gentle motion.
"Okay! Ben calm bees! No sting Sarah!" Ben grinned his guileless grin, clapping his hands happily. "Sarah get lots honey!"
Sarah shook her head with a fond, exasperated sigh. *This eternal child.*
She chose the busiest hive to start. Carefully, she lifted the lid and slid out a frame. It was crawling with thousands of bees.
Removed from the hive, their protective instinct flared. Like startled locusts, they erupted into the air – a buzzing, angry cloud. Disoriented and defensive, they saw anything nearby as a threat.
Sarah hadn't checked her bee suit thoroughly before putting it on. Years of sun and rain had taken their toll; a distinct tear gaped open at the shoulder seam. The bees needed no invitation.
"Ahhh—!" Sarah's scream of terror ripped through the apiary's peace. Her body jerked violently, hands clawing frantically at her back as if a spider had dropped onto her shoulder.
Ben froze, stunned by the sudden chaos. Sarah's shriek pierced his simple thoughts like an icicle. He rushed forward, arms outstretched, desperate to help his dear Sarah, but utterly lost as to how.
"What wrong?" Ben asked urgently, his usual placid smile gone, replaced by pure panic and confusion.
"Bees stinging me!" Sarah gasped, one hand rubbing furiously at her shoulder, her face contorted in pain.
"What... what Ben do?" He grew more agitated.
"Ben, you stay right here. Don't move. Sarah will go get a new suit."
Sarah stumbled towards home through the pine needles, bent double from the searing pain in her shoulder. She was nearly there when a burly figure stepped from the trees, blocking her path – Rex Hawke, the town's notorious honey broker. The twisted hive tattoo on his thick forearm marked his exploitation of struggling beekeepers.
"Where you off to, little songbird?" Rex drawled, his boot crushing a fragment of honeycomb into the pine-needle-strewn earth. Sticky honey mingled with sap. "Heard your clover honey… had some bear trouble?" He grinned, flashing a gold tooth, his gaze slithering over Sarah's wax-smeared neck.
Sarah clenched her fists. "Move, Rex. Ben's waiting at the hives."
"What's that simpleton know?" Rex grabbed her wrist, the leather glove biting into her skin. "Mayor Wilson's new tax hits next week… Without my buyers, those sixty-eight hives of yours are just firewood!" He yanked Sarah towards a shadowed pile of discarded hive boxes reeking of rot and cheap tobacco.
"Let go! The ranger patrol's east of here—" Sarah drove an elbow into his ribs, but his arm clamped around her like iron. As she struggled, her back slammed into a rusted honey press. A half-full jar of fermenting honey perched on top crashed down, drenching them both in sticky, sour gold.
Rex wiped honey from his face, fury igniting in his eyes. "You chose the hard way!" He snatched a length of hempen cord used for bundling hive parts and swiftly bound Sarah's wrists and ankles. He shoved her roughly onto the yellowing grass, intent on taking what he wanted on this crisp autumn day.
"You animal! What are you doing?! Let me go, or I'll scream!"
"Scream! See who dares interfere. Listen good – today I'm having you. Fight all you want; the harder you fight, the more I'll enjoy it!"
Drunk on lust, Rex licked his lips and prepared to lunge.
"Ben! Ben! Help Sarah... Ben...!" Sarah screamed with all her might.
Ben had been carefully transferring a queen bee to a new brood box when Sarah's scream tore through the pines. The swarm above him suddenly coalesced into a vortex – they tasted the pheromones of her terror. Ben lurched towards the sound, the swarm flowing after him like a dark cloak.
Rex had Sarah pinned on the grass, his large hand nearly crushing her throat. "Gonna make you sing, sweetness," he leered, gold tooth glinting.
The words barely left his mouth when Ben, like a runaway bull, crashed into him. Rex's ribs cracked audibly as he flew backwards into the pile of rotten wood.
"Sarah... hurt?" Ben pointed at the bruise darkening on Sarah's neck, tears welling in his eyes.
Rex spat a mouthful of blood. "You little retard..." He scrambled up and drove the steel-reinforced heel of his work boot into Ben's stomach. Ben's cry cut off abruptly. Sarah threw herself onto Ben's trembling body, her hands smeared with his blood and beeswax. "Stop! I'll do whatever you want!"
"Begging *now*?" Rex grabbed a fistful of Sarah's hair, wrenching her head back. "After I finish breaking this useless piece of shit, I'll take my time with you!" Steel-toed kicks rained down on Ben, who curled into a fetal position. The furious swarm circled Rex's head but wouldn't descend – his tattoo ink was laced with powdered silver, a potent bee deterrent.
When Ben finally lay utterly still, Rex kicked the sobbing Sarah aside. He pressed fingers to Ben's neck. "Damn it, he's gone already?"
"If you breathe a word of this," Rex snarled, hauling Sarah up by her collar, his face inches from hers, "I'll make sure you and everything left of this miserable farm disappear. You hear me?"
Sarah wept, tears falling like rain onto the honey-stained grass.