Right. The candle. I go blow it out before returning to the hall, where I suddenly have a choice to make.
What do I do next? Where do I go? Do I stay here and risk Father coming back and locking me in the room again?
No. Absolutely not. I have to go, and I have to go right now.
HAROLD
“Harry,” calls out the guard captain, Greld. “You’re out by the east tower tonight. There’s been talk of wolves lately, so make sure to get one for me.”
“Right.” I grab my musket and nod appropriately. “I’ll keep an eye out, Cap.”
Then I stuff my bag into a trunk and take off. Not that I’d ever shoot at a wolf. They’re easy to scare off, being smaller predators, and are rarely out to pick a fight. A bear is a different story. I’ve encountered plenty of those on patrol, but I’ve only had to take one down in all my time in the township’s service. Even as big as I am, I’m no match for a bear, and it was him or me. So I took out my musket and picked me.
I set off through town toward the east, where denser blocks of apartments give way to larger homes, then smaller ones. The moon is high in the sky by the time I reach the first farm on the edge of town.
Every night as a township guard is a mental game. What great philosophical question will I ponder tonight as I walk endlessly through the woods, looking for anything that might be a threat? Maybe this will be the day I ponder that book I read where the boy gave up his dog to save his brother. What a conundrum. What would I have done? Of course, it is the moral choice to save the human life. But in the moment, who can say what any of us would do?
It’s a morbid thought to take with me, but it’ll do.
I pass through farmland toward the distant forest. There aren’t as many people living out here, but there are a few, like the weird old man who makes wooden bowls and spoons and other utility items to sell at market.
I’ve been patrolling for about two hours when I hear a twig snap, and it’s not under my foot. I lift my musket and peer around the woods, where the trees block out the moonlight. But I have above average night vision—one of the reasons I’m good at my job—and so I can usually spot a creature about the same time it spots me.
There. A flash of something through the trees. It was pale, like a sheet. Not animal.
I jog after it, wondering if maybe we have bigger problems than wolves. There are always stories about bandits in the woods south of us, but rarely east. Maybe they’ve expanded.
Another flash of pale color. I follow, dashing through the trees toward it.
There. It’s a person alright. A small person wearing clothes that used to be white or maybe yellow, but are now dulled and dirty. The person glances over their shoulder, spots me, and immediately takes off into the woods.
Was that… a girl? Out here in the middle of the night? That’s not safe, especially when those threadbare clothes are all she’s got in the cold.
I dash after her, tucking my musket back into my scabbard.
“Wait!” I call out after her. “I’m not a bandit or anything, I promise!”
The girl doesn’t stop, but I’m moving much faster than she is. It appears as I get closer that she’s barefoot. No wonder I’m gaining on her.
“Please, ma’am, stop!” I shout again. “I’m with the town guard. You don’t need to be afraid.”
She continues running, not stopping for anything. I finally catch up and grab her arm, which causes her toshriek. I don’t let go, but I’m tempted to as she screams shrilly in my ear.
She’s small, no doubt, which is why I thought she was just a young girl. But she’s a woman, simply very skinny, her body barely hidden by the loose, dirty clothes she wears. Her hair is a tangle of black, her eyes wild in the moonlight.
“Let me go!” she screams, but I don’t.
“Please stop,” I beg her. “I will release you if you calm down.”
But she fights me hard, clawing at me like a feral animal. To stop her from hurting herself or me, I lock my arms around her and hold her against my chest. She screams again, but no one will hear her out here—hopefully.
“Shh,” I whisper as she flails, desperate to escape. “You are panicking. But I won’t hurt you.”
“You’re not letting me go!” she sobs. “Don’t rape me!”
I sigh as I keep her restrained. “I’m not going to rape you. Just please—stop screaming.”
Eventually, the fight drains out of her, and her thrashing slows. Her chest is heaving from exertion, and when I look down, there’s blood all over her torn-up feet.
