"Dorlee! Get to work, ye slattern!"
"I been working, Mam." Dorlee finished hauling the bucket from the well, steadying the crank with her bad arm as she reached for the bucket handle with her true hand to lift it off the hook. It was awkward and some of the water slopped over, wetting her thigh.
"Don't sass me, missy, or I'll blister that lazy hide of yourn."
Dorlee scowled as she bent to hook the yoke to the bucket. "No ma'am. Sorry."
Mam waved her apron at a crow landed near her pie on the half door's ledge, her foul temper finding something else to attack. "Gowway, ye mobbin! Scat! Our dinner's not yourn, ye hear?"
"If you brung it into the creamery it'd both cool and be left alone," the girl muttered as she settled the wood across her shoulders before straightening her knees to take the weight. She started moving, both hands on the yoke to steady it, her short arm with its half hand just able to grasp and steady the left side as she trudged up the slope to the big stone trough. This was her chore. Her younger brothers milked the goats and sheep, she hauled the water because her deformed hand made milking slow and awkward. Besides, Da said, Dorlee's bad luck soured the milk. Dorlee thought he didn't mind making her work their garden and root fields so much, no bad luck there for that foodstuff--or brewing, or making cheese, or especially weaving by smoky peat fire until her fingers bled and she could barely see for the headache. They sold her weaving and her lace for enough, no bad luck there, either.
Dorlee slowly lowered the heavy buckets to the ground, released her weary frame from the yoke and eased the crick in her back. "Carbon Credits be damned," she cursed. "Tomorrow I'm turning the machines back on."
Opening: Writtenwyrdd.....Continuation: Anon.