The village soon erupted.
First came a piercing cry from the west, followed by a second, then a third, spreading in ripples like stones striking water.
Those working dropped their hoes, the sentries leaned halfway out of their posts, and those tending fires shoved their wood into the stoves and ran outside.
Over a thousand people surged toward the cornfield from every direction, their footsteps, panting, and children's shouts mingling together.
Some lost their shoes as they ran; others tripped, scrambled up, and kept running.
By the time they crowded around the outer edge of the field ridge, every sound caught in their throats.
The corn had already grown as tall as a person.
Thick stalks swayed in the evening breeze, their leaves rustling against one another like flowing green waves.
Each stalk bore two or three ears of corn, bulging beneath green husks, the outlines of neatly arranged kernels visible underneath.
The sweet, fresh scent of grain was so thick it was as though someone had soaked the entire field in sugar water. One breath brought sour saliva into their throats and made their stomachs clench.
A bare-chested man reached out to break off an ear.
The instant his fingers touched it, he froze...
The ear weighed heavily in his hand, as solid as a rock in his grip.
He twisted hard, and with a crisp crack, the ear came free.
He peeled back the husk. Golden kernels lined the cob in neat rows, each plump and round. When he pinched one with his nail, milky juice welled out.
The man stared at the juice for two seconds, then suddenly shoved the ear into his mouth and took a huge bite, raw and all.
He chewed twice, then stopped.
Blood vessels crept across his eyes one by one. His