Bainne

Every morning the farmhand milks the lone surviving cow to keep himself alive as scarcity tightens its grip. Hunger hangs over the estate and he guards the fragile yield as his only lifeline. This routine establishes the bleak rhythm of life that shapes his outlook.

Before first light a hooded woman slips into the cowshed to steal milk. The farmhand suspects theft and gives chase into mist-shrouded fields. The encounter leaves him unsettled by her calm, almost spectral presence.

He follows her into the cold dawn and confronts the silent intruder as she cups a tin of milk to her chest and does not run. The figure moves with uncanny quiet, leaving no clear footprints in the frost. The moment deepens the sense that she is more than a thief, something otherworldly.

Near the cow’s flank they cross paths again as she coaxes the animal and hums an Irish lullaby. He is enraged at first, then tempered by her emaciated appearance and the reminder of shared deprivation. The air grows tense under a gathering storm.

Lightning flashes illuminate her hollow features and distant gaze, suggesting she may be a famine victim long dead. The encounter feels like a visitation rather than theft. The mystery of her identity unsettles him even more.

Haunted by the encounter, he dreams of parched fields, skeletal cattle, and children crying out for sustenance. The dream blurs the line between memory and omen, leaving him unsettled at dawn. It foreshadows what his choice may reveal about his humanity.

The next morning, he does not drive her away; instead he allows the figure to draw milk freely. She looks at him with a grateful smile as she recedes into the fog, leaving only the echo of her lullaby. The act reframes his struggle around survival and generosity.

He stands in the doorway with a half-full vessel of milk, torn between clinging to what remains and offering what little he has. The encounter rekindles a sense that life carries meaning beyond possession. The famine's weight still presses, but his heart shifts.

Despite the ongoing hunger, the farmer's act of mercy signals a change that might outlive the moment. He recognizes that solidarity can outlast scarcity, even if the world around them remains indifferent. The era's grim reality remains a backdrop to their exchange.

As she vanishes, the lullaby trails in the fog, a fragile reminder of humanity that survives beyond possession. He is left with a half-full vessel and a choice to hold onto life or share it. The memory of the encounter stays with him.

The encounter reframes his view of famine and survival, hinting that life can carry meaning even in scarcity. He begins to see the other as a fellow being rather than an obstacle to survival. The line between life and death feels thinner than before.

The story closes with an ambiguous note: the famine continues, yet the farmer's moment of mercy holds a quiet promise. The figure's presence remains unseen, but the lullaby's echo suggests connection endures beyond the scene. Whether this changes the world remains uncertain, but the act has meaning.