The Life Of Neranda (Updated)

CHAPTER TWO: FELICITY'S BABY

It was cold and harsh outside, and icy wind trickled through the bare, windswept tracks of the village, tangling itself between every flimsy, stark branch of the trees. The sky was grey with cloud, obscuring the chalky moon. The village seemed to be decreasing in temperature every second, as Rory Jack glared enviously through the welcoming light of the Ingledegon House windows. Graham Ingle would be enjoying a hot dinner in there by the television, made for him by Frieda. Oh yes, and Taffy. Bloody Taffy. She'd be sitting in there on her nice warm mat, under the heater, dozing off after filling her stomach with fresh meat and eggs. Rory shook his head in disgust and scornfully glared down at his frozen hoof paws. He hardly had any old grain to feed his family.

Coldly, he turned into the deepening dusk, allowing the ferocious, swirling winds to draw him further into the insubstantial blackness of the nightfall, as he descended further down the track to his house.

Rory's footfalls were soft against the patting of fresh rain on the gravel path. The doorway framed his silhouette, and Felicity gazed up only in time to meet his fond contemplation.

'Lissie.' Rory's voice was almost grave, yet tinted with the essence of fresh panic. 'There is no more grain.'

'But we have a stash.' She replied.

'I mean there's no more in the Ingledegon Shed, Felicity. It's all been either used or stolen since I last went in there and took some.'

'Wait, that was only a few days ago, wasn't it?'

'Yes, Felicity, but someone's been into it, no doubt. There's almost none left - it's not even worth stealing,' he replied, 'it wouldn't even fill half a cup.'

'But Rory –'

'Don't stress out, darl, we've got enough. Don't forget I can steal some dog biscuits, too. There might even be stale bread around if we are lucky.'

'Don't forget about the winter food stash we have,' chimed in Berryl.

'I can't even find local work,' Rory continued, ignoring her comment, 'nobody around here has the money to pay me, even a measly amount, and the ones who do ... well they're not interested in employing young villagers from Ingledegon.'

'We'll manage, love.' Felicity's voice was soft and tender, merely a whisper and hardly to be heard against the now pelting rain. 'It will all work out, I promise. Never give up on reaching final victory.'

Silver sunlight leaked through layers of angry black clouds. Rory Jack's footsteps echoed along Bricks Road, and no lights were on in the Ingledegon House. He glanced back past the communal vegetable garden and down towards his little family hut,then quietened his footfalls in case they woke Frieda or Graham, or even Taffy. A layer of icy dew and raindrops had come to settle on the iron roofs. Rory's masculine physique then appeared as a shadow beneath him as the sunlight dribbled onto the bleak winter scene.

As he rounded the corner, Rory saw that the Ingledegon Shed door was closed and the handle was locked.

'Bugger!'

He turned tail and broke into a trot across the Grass Park, continuing past the Ingledegon House.

Deciding to take a different route home for a change, he made a quick swerve to his left and threw himself into an energetic canter midway up Sunnyhill Road. Wet gravel flicked from his hoof-paws and his feet created a rhythm against the hard ground. Nearing the end of the road, Rory slowed to a walk. Instead of heading north, he took the driveway into Tower Hill Lookout Park. The lookout tower loomed hauntingly below the desolate sky. He took the unsolid pathway beside the structure and meandered along in the direction of Walker Park.