The Highwayman's Footsteps (2012)

Cover The Highwayman's Footsteps
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Genres: Fiction
My mouth was dry and foul with hunger.
The boy, Henry, was up already, busying himself making the fire again. I stumbled to my feet, wrapped myself in my cloak, pulled on my boots and went outside. The wind was bitter, but the sky was clear. There would be no more snow, though what there was had partly frozen during the small hours of the morning. It crunched beneath my feet, loud in the stillness.
After using the latrine at the back of the cottage, I broke the ice on the horse’s trough and dre
...w fresh water from the pump into a bucket. Back in the dwelling, Henry was beginning to put food on the table while waiting for water to boil.
“I am not hungry,” I lied. I would not look at him. I was disturbed by the way he irked me. Why did his goodness set my teeth on edge so? I pitied him, but could not like him. He did nothing wrong, yet I could not warm to him. It was like having pieces of grass seed or grit inside a shirt – harmless, but unpleasant.
He put the food away, without eating.
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