It seems I’ve unconsciously carried over my characters from last week. The Old Mother must have reneged on her cat spell. She might be sorry now.
‘Tomorrow, we’ll need to collect more firewood,’ he said, tilting his head towards the ragged pile at the edge of the camp.
In the overcast dusk, and with her weakening eyesight, she found it hard to judge what was left. They had collected bundles yesterday, rain-wet and much of it fresh green – branches snapped off in the gale. The same storm which had forced them to crouch within the merest shelter of a tent hurriedly erected in the lee of a low cliff. Muddied rivulets running down the cliff face and into the tent stained clothing and dampened their bedding. She had lifted her sack onto her lap, and prayed that a wet bottom was all she suffered.
Today the sun had shone and she was grateful that tonight, at least, she would sleep under a dry blanket.
‘Yes.’ She gestured at the fire where large logs formed a pyramid through which coals glowed. ‘We must keep all pots going for the potion to be effective.’
‘Keep rotating them over the flames?’ he asked. ‘What comes next, Old Mother?’
She squinted at him. ‘Your task is to keep the flames alive. My task is to feed the pots as and when it’s needed.’
Her suspicions of his motives had not been allayed. Think how he had arrived at her door! Alone, clothes shredded from his flight through the forest, hair stuck with greenery from sleep snatched on the leaf-littered ground. She had not wanted to let him in, despite she knew who he was. Madness glinted in his dark eyes – revengeful fury.
‘They’ve taken the castle,’ he panted, pushing his way in past her regardless of her wishes.
She knew this. Not from any magic, but from the smoke which billowed into the cloudless sky for a day and a night.
‘I must take it back.’ He stood by her small fire, facing her, feet planted wide. He would have his demands met or …
‘Where is your army? Where are your soldiers?’
‘The enemy drugged them.’ He scowled. ‘Do you know how they came?’
She shook her head, guessing trickery of some kind. It would be like them, to use their fantasies and imaginings rather than fight. They had a horror of blood, ironic in such an aggressive race.
‘A pretty party of musicians, dancers, acrobats.’ He turned and spat into the fire. ‘Offering free food and drink.’
She snorted. ‘You did not take advantage of this?’
‘No. I was occupied elsewhere.’
With one of his mistresses, no doubt. She briefly wondered what had become of the young woman, left behind in the care of the enemy. She pushed the thought away.
So here they are, in a secret clearing not far from the conquered castle, brewing a counter potion to wake the sleeping soldiers and raise the young king’s army. The how and when are his problem. For now, she must only ensure the brew is strong. And for that, she needs constant heat.
She sniffs the sky. Tomorrow will be more rain. She eases herself up, goes to the shambles of a wood pile. Yes, they need more wood. Much more. And it will need to be collected tonight, not tomorrow.
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“Tomorrow we’ll need to collect more firewood.”
Simon’s quite statement shook everyone from their reverie. It had been a long hard winter and the fire had been the only bright, warm light in an otherwise drab world.
However, now the wood supply was exhausted and the only way to keep the cold from freezing everyone to death was to go search for more.
The shingled roof on the old wooden hut was beginning to sag under the weight of constant snowfalls and everyone knew it was only a matter of time before it gave way.
Still, searching for wood in below zero temperatures would not be easy and quite a few of us began to fidget at the thought.
Melanie moved over to sit by Simon and nodded her head sagely.
“I know it’s going to be hard to find firewood in these conditions but what choice do we have,” she said.
“None,” said Wesley. “It’s either that or face the dreadful consequences.”
The small group had been caught unawares in a blizzard and had been lucky to find the old ranger’s hut before they all froze.
The firewood had been piled against the front door – they rightly guessed for just such a contingency – and it was with welcome relief that they were able to start a fire in the fireplace.
They had enough food for several days but, now, even that was running low – so it wasn’t just firewood the group needed, but at least it would keep them warm until hopefully rescue arrived.
In the meantime, all six members – three boys and three girls – of the group were eternally grateful they had somewhere to shelter from the severe wintry conditions.
“No point in us all going,” said Roger. “You girls should stay in the hut while the rest go see what we can find.”
“At least there is an axe so you’ll be able to cut down some trees if you have to,” Sue said. “Better than just trying to find loose stuff.”
They all murmured their agreement, though Simon couldn’t help but point out dry wood burned more easily and with less smoke than freshly chopped green timber.
Angela looked out the window at snow being driven heavily against the glass.
“The weather isn’t letting up yet,” she observed. “Hope there is a break tomorrow otherwise any chance of rescue – let alone collecting firewood – seems like a forlorn hope.”
The sleeping army awakes. Will the enemy fight or give in to avoid bloodshed. The million dollar question!!
Who knows! Bored with this story now LOL
Excellent!
Thank you!