Raven & The Angel

Chapter 3 - Trouble in Lightfoot

Ma Blackshank's face looked stern, but she spoke gently to calm the girl down.

"Raven, you need to tell me exactly what's happened, from the moment these strangers were first spotted in Lightfoot. I need details girl, so take yer time. And don't be worrying about no terrible danger for now".

Raven sat down in a dusty old armchair near the fire and took a moment to catch her breath. It had been a long run from the village and it was only now that she realised how exhausted she was.  Whilst Penfold busied himself making the tea, she watched him nudging and pulling some of the vast array of pulleys in the dimly lit kitchen where Ma spent most of her time.  It still amazed Raven how Ma could possibly have trained the Pygmy goat to do all the chores around the little house. Even more amazing was how Ma had designed the incredibly complex pulley systems for Penfold to use.

When Penfold head butted a small tray on wheels towards Raven, she reached for the steaming mug of hot tea and curled into the armchair. She took a deep breath and began to recall the events of the past 24 hours. Penfold watched her as he idly chewed the rug.

By all accounts, at around 11 o'clock the previous night there had been the loudest bang and brightest flashes of light seen and heard in a long time. They came from way over the hilltop to the north of the village and brought quite a number of bleary eyed villagers tumbling out of their homes wondering what on earth was going on.  Having seen a few more bright flashes from the same direction before the night became peaceful again, the commotion was put down to a freak thunder and lightning storm, unusual in that it hadn't actually rained and the night sky appeared clear and full of brightly twinkling stars. The disturbed villagers tiredly trudged back to their beds to get some sleep before their early rise to work the fields.

The next morning, this morning, the usual bustle around the village ensued as farm workers rushed to the fields, mother's herded their children towards school and shop owners dealt with the first rush of custom for the day. All seemed mundainly normal until someone noticed five or six tall figures standing on the hill top, watching the village. They didn't move for several hours and tensions in the village were running high.

Lightfoot had been attacked by outlanders and ruffians many times before.  From opportunists wanting to steal their livestock, to rich crooked landowners wanting to force the villagers away so they could take over the especially fertile land for their own gains. Well, the Lightfooters were having none of it. The farmers gathered every rusted tool they could lay their hands on and piled them like an ugly sculpture in the village square.  Hunting guns were checked and loaded, lethal blades were polished, sharpened and admired by the huntsmen who doted on their shiney weapons like proud parents that dote on a newborn child.

It was as though the strangers waited until the village was ready for an attack because the minute the frenzied defence preparations ended, they began to descend the hill towards the village.  The village mayor, flanked by a line of the toughest and bravest men, met the strangers as they sauntered into the village square. There were gasps of surprise and fear from the many families hiding behind the closed shutters of their timber framed homes. Children gasped and wowed, pointing at the figures as they passed by, as mothers dragged their kin back into the shadows and out of view of this bizarre group of... men?