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Godric
Terric scanned the ominous clouds gathering on the horizon. “It will be dark soon. We need to find shelter.”
His sister was already shivering, and he didn’t want to alarm her by mentioning wolves probably roamed the hills at night.
“Yonder,” Adelina exclaimed, pointing to the east. “A hut of some sort.”
Terric narrowed his eyes to where she was pointing. “A bothy, I think.”
“For sheep, yes?” Roland asked.
“For the shepherd,” Terric replied with a chuckle. “And weary travelers.”
He wasn’t sure where his cousin found the strength but, next thing he knew, Roland had scooped up Adelina and loped off toward the hut.
Terric followed, wary when the smell of burning peat stole up his nostrils. He shouted a warning as they got closer. “Smoke, from the chimney. Could be Mandeville.”
“I’d rather deal with him than stay out here,” Adelina replied as Roland set her down and drew his dagger. “He has no reason to harm us.”
“I’ll go first,” Terric said. “Give me your weapon, cousin.”
Roland complied, drawing Adelina into his arms.
“Hello, inside the bothy,” Terric shouted as he approached the door. “We beg shelter.”
* * *
As the minutes crawled by with no response from within, Roland became increasingly worried for Adelina who was shivering uncontrollably. He tightened his embrace, rubbing her back, hoping to warm her with his body heat. “I say we force our way in,” he suggested. “We cannot stay out here.”
Terric took a step forward, halting abruptly when the rustic door creaked open.
An elderly man cocooned in sheepskins appeared, tufts of white hair sticking up from his head. The clay pipe fell out of his mouth when he gaped at the dagger.
Terric quickly handed the weapon back to Roland. “Sorry,” he said, gesturing to his companions. “Can’t be too careful. We are three lost travelers who desperately need shelter.”
Eyeing Adelina and Roland with suspicion, the old man started to shove the door closed.
“My sister is ill,” Terric lied. “Please.”
“Where’d ye come from?” the man asked gruffly.
Roland sensed the shepherd would know a lie when he heard one. “Waterthwaite,” he replied.
To his surprise, the shepherd spat into the dirt as he opened the door wide. “Heathens, yonder,” he exclaimed, retrieving his pipe. “Come in.”
* * *
Sitting on the dirt floor of the crude shelter, Adelina appreciated the sheepskin the shepherd offered, despite the pungent smell emanating from it. She was grateful Roland hadn’t loosened his embrace. She was still cold, but his body heat was gradually seeping into her frozen bones.
“We’re very grateful,” Terric told their host. “I’m Terric de Quincey, this is my cousin, Roland and my sister, Adelina.”
“Godric,” the shepherd replied, handing her a mug of steaming liquid. “This’ll warm thee, lass.”
“Thank you, Godric,” she replied hoarsely, receiving a toothless grin in reply.
Roland inhaled the aroma of the beverage. “Just sip,” he whispered as the old man lumbered off to tend the peat fire burning inside a ring of stones in the centre of the hut. “I’d venture to say there’s quite a bit of spirits in it.”
“He means us no harm,” she replied.
