Her own way

Chapter 4 {Edited}

Thomas’s troops were not the only people out in the forest that day. Elsewhere in the forest, a man by the name of James Jacobs was out with his eldest son Peter hunting for deer to take home for dinner. James was not a hunter by trade although he did spend his days in amongst the trees chopping them down to clear pathways or to sell for firewood, his hunting trips occured a few times a month to supplement the family for what could not be bought at the market. Peter was often at his father's side on trips out - to the market, to hunt or to work. He enjoyed being out in the wilderness of the forest and working with his hands. He would often ask James to bring back spare logs or thick branches that he had cut down during the day so that he could play about shaping the logs into something else, like and animal or person. Quite often the route they would take through the forest would lead them past a pretty little cottage owned by a nice but quiet lady and her solemn daughter. James had always found it perculiar that they were on their own, there was no husband at the lady's side, no older boy to help look after the family. He rarely poke to them and never heard the lady or her child say anything beyond "hello" or "good day". James was a kind hearted man and even though he rarely spoke to this small family of two, he would always make sure to leave some of the fresh meat on the doorstep whenever they passed by on a hunting trip.

 

Today on their route to the nearby hunting grounds, there was an unusual stillness in the forest. The animals were silent and the wind was still. As James and Peter drew closer to the cottage, the atmosphere changed, becoming more eerie. On the trail past the cottage James noticed tracks, far more than there should have been in this part of the forest. Concerned, James halted and crouched down for  closer look at the tracks. Both hoof prints and footprints blended together on the dusty trail, with the footprints overpowering those of the animal. On closer examination, the footprints seemed to head in the direction of the cottage whilst the hoof prints appeared to be going in the opposite direction. Signalling for Peter to come closer, James pointed to the different marks on the ground before speaking in a hushed voice worried that there may still be someone around keeping watch in the area.

"Take a good look here son, there could be trouble around.” James cautioned Peter before slowly standing up and moving carefully so as to not disturb the ground. Together, James and Peter slowly continued down the trail discovering more tracks and evidence of destruction. Upon reaching the cottage, Peter stopped and grabbed his father’s arm.

“Father, look.” Peter pointed towards the cottage and its broken entrance. “Bandits?” He asked, uncertainty lacing his young voice.

“I don’t know son. Keep a sharp eye, whoever did this could come back.” James replied. Slowly they made their way up to the cottage and the devastation that lay inside. Using the end of a stick, James nudged the door to one side. After giving his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness in the room, he stepped inside.

“Stay here Peter.” He ordered and began to search the cottage. The inside of the cottage looked smaller from the inside. There was three rooms on the ground level, a small room with a make-shift bed, a sitting area with a large fireplace which now held marks of violence, and around the back of the building was the kitchen area. Moving through the cramped passageway, James paused to look inside the sitting area and was appalled at the damage caused in this virtually empty room: chunks had been broken off the slate shelf, and the whold room was covered in soot from the fireplace where the cold ashes from earlier fires had been kicked around ruining the rug that lay infront of the fireplace. Keeping an ear out for any noises, it was eerie to hear silence, there no whisper of sound to indicate any one was within the building. Glancing through the doorway into the kitchen area, James shook his head in sadness at the damage in the room. The table and chairs lay broken on the floor, the bowls and plates were in pieces, and the whole building was in a state of disarray. ‘Who could do this?’ James thought to himself. ‘This is not the work of bandits.’