It was sunrise at Nagrebcan. The fine, bluish mist, low over the tobacco fields, was lifting and thinning moment by momentIn the early morning the puppies lay curled up together between their mother’s paws under the ladder of the house.
Baldo stood at the threshold and rubbed his sleep-heavy eyes with his fists. He reached the black spotted puppy and rubbed it into his face
Ambo, his seven-year old brother, awoke crying.
My puppy, My puppy
Nana Elang must have been thirty, but she looked at least fifty. She was a thin, wispy woman, with bony hands and arms. .
Nana Elang, the mother of Baldo, appeared in the doorway with handful of rice straw
Get two or three burning coals and bring them home on the rice straw,
Do not wave the straw in the wind. If you do, it will catch fire before you get home
There is the fire, mother, Is father awake already
Nana Elang shook her head
Baldowent to play with the puppies
But the skin is tart. It tastes bad
You foolish boy, remove the skin
I will not, It is not your banana
You are not eating it
Ambo was almost as tall as his older brother and he had stout husky legs. Baldo often called him the son of an Igorot
Ambo played with the other puppies, but he soon grew tired of them.