“Instead Williams heard a high-pitched scream, an awful scream of torment, and he ran towards the noise. He was on his way back to the beach from the outposts carrying the report that the French did not seem to be up to anything – something he suspected was true given the weather, but doubted that the chasseur pickets had taken any real trouble to find out. Another cry turned into a great sob and then there was silence. He was sure it was a woman and so he drove himself on, running down the mudd...y track. Pushing back his cloak, his hand gripped the hilt of his sword as he ran and slid the blade free. The track turned past a rise crowned with bushes which waved in the wind and went down into a little dip. Williams saw a patch of light, bright light in the open door of a cottage, and then the door was slammed shut. He pelted along the path, muddy water splashing up on to his already filthy boots and cloak, and then was on the grass. Outside the door he stopped, took a breath and then launched himself at the door, kicking so hard that his foot snapped one of the planks as it slammed back.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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