Short Stories
The Cottage
Off in the distance I could see the smoke getting weaker as time went by. There is a small cottage about five miles as the crow flies from where I sit resting from the attack. The sun is setting and I will need to make my way to that cottage if I am to survive the night. The familiar crunch of snow beneath my boots not only leaves a trail for someone to follow but is loud enough to scare away the birds that rest on the dead branches of the oak trees that line the coast line of Itor. There is no time to make my way stealthily as I can already feel the frostbite setting in on the fingers of my left hand. Losing my leather glove in the attack will cost me the small amount of gold that I have left and possibly the use of my hand as well if I can't make it to the cottage soon.
As I get ever closer to the cottage I begin to plan in my head how I will go about my hostile takeover of the cottage. Hoping there is only one person occupying the cottage I plan to flank from the right side of the entrance where the woods encompass the house. Having lost most of my energy as well as my rapier in the attack I scan the ground for a sturdy branch that I will be able to use as a cudgel. Now less than a mile to go and still lacking a weapon I come upon a foul stench that turns my stomach and burns my nostrils.
Covering my nose with my sleeve I continue on my way to the cottage. Soon I arrive at the source of the gut wrenching smell, a small group of what I estimate to be five rotting bodies, dismantled in unimaginable ways. I can see a faint red trail under the snow following up to the bodies from the door of the cottage. Beginning to think twice about making an attack on the house without a suitable weapon I spy a shinny sliver of light a midst the remains. Holding back the spew in my stomach I push the torso off of it with a large branch lying next the bodies only to discover that the shiny bit is in fact an ornate blade. Taking the blade some distance from the bodies I quickly clean the sword with some snow and make my way swiftly but silently closer to the cottage. Having found this sword and greatly increasing my chances at taking over the house I make my way to the side window of the house to asses the monster that left the horror in the woods. I can no longer see any smoke coming from the chimney I can only assume that the monster inside has slumbered off and let his fire die off.
Only a few steps from the window I hear nothing inside which gives me a wave of relief that whoever lies inside is indeed asleep and will make for easy pickings. Peeking in the window quickly I pull my head back as not to be seen. I saw no one in the room so I take a longer look. I see a small wooden table stained from years of use with two missing planks from the far side. Beside the table is a poorly constructed chair made from a log and what may have at one time been the top of a stool. Oddly there is no blood to be seen within the cottage which begins to scare me even more. There is one small room in the back of the cottage with a closed door.
I move slowly to the front door and begin to pull it open. Slowly and carefully the door is almost open wide enough for me to fit through. Then suddenly a loud whine from the wooden door breaks the silence. I freeze and wait for any sign of movement from the terror inside. Minutes pass and nothing reaches my ear, I force myself through the passage without moving the door any further. Walking lightly toward the small room I drew the ornate blade from my belt and readied for the attack. I notice a small hole in the door and peer through it only to see the darkness that lies within. Taking a deep breath I hoist the blade, open the door and rush in.
Emptiness just as the darkness through the hole foretold. The only thing in the room is a small pile of tattered blankets in the corner. I move back into the main room of the cottage wondering who the near dead fire was keeping warm this day and if they would return soon. Having no place else to go and fingers blistered from the cold I throw the two small logs next the fireplace into the pit and begin to blow on whats left of the fire hoping the logs will catch. After a few minutes of working the fire place the logs slowly begin to char and burn. Sitting down in front of the pit I warm my fingers slowly as to avoid the pain of a quick thaw. After an hour with feeling returning to my fingers the fire begins to die off again. Not wanting to freeze overnight I move the stump that was used as a stool into the fire, this should burn for more than a few hours I think.
Assuming that I am relatively safe for the night I turn back to the small room to retrieve those blankets to make a bed. Lifting the blankets I uncover to great surprise a small boy huddled there in the corner motionless. Thinking the boy must have passed I place my fingers on his wrist to test for a pulse. The body is still warm but no pulse is found on child. The boy is sickly thin, my guess is that he died of starvation within the past day, but was the boy the one who had started the fire I saw burning on my journey here? Is there still another afoot? Questions race through my mind of the danger that still may be present. If not for the attack earlier would I have made it here in time to help the child? The bodies near the cottage were not more than a few nights rotting, and who would leave weapons on the dead in these times?
Sleep now surrounding my mind I move the boy to the back of the house and bury him in snow. Once back inside I drag the table into the small room and use it to barricade the door, hoping to give me an early warning of anyone who may come in the night. I cover myself in the tattered blankets and pray to the Gods that I live through the night.
To be continued.... Maybe