Page 4 of The Knucker King

Avice scoffed at the man’s order. “I will not. You know I do not often attend the church, and you are her father. If the outcome you wish for is a Christian burial, then that is what you must prepare yourself.”

The shepherd clenched his fists. “You will take her there.”

Then, a growl.

Bramble took a step forward, letting himself be seen. To Avice, he had never left, always in her periphery. However, he could only be seen by others when he wished it to be so. His red eyes flared. Black lips pulled back to reveal glistening, bone-white teeth.

Robert squeaked. His mouth snapped closed with a click as his gaze darted between Avice and the Grim.

“As I have said,” she continued, “you can take your daughter to the church for a Christian burial, or you will let me take her to the Good Neighbours. I will not be forced to do something against my will.”

Robert scowled down at the Grim, and then at the midwife. “So be it.” He half-turned back towards his flock. “There will be another, anyway. And the next one will be a son.”

Once the shepherd had marched away, almost disappearing into his flock, Avice finally took in a full breath; her heart still galloped over the encounter. The frigid air stung her lungs as she swaddled the baby once more. She tucked the child back against her soft chest, enveloping her in the cloak again.

Satisfied that the little girl was as protected from the elements as Avice could make her, she turned her attention the Grim at her side.

“To Knucker Hill, and the King of the Well.”

3

Chapter 3

Avice

Avice and Bramble trudged determinedly across Robert Shepherd’s field and into the woods that bordered it. Always more relaxed amongst the plants and animals then she was around people, her shoulders dropped, and she let out a sigh.

She studied her surrounds as they marched, keeping watch for any flicker of green. It was though the entire forest had been draped with a thick linen cloth, muffling all signs of life. After trying to spot a hide or hair of an animal or the hint of a new bud, she turned her gaze upwards to the grey sky. There, the ghostly branches of the brown trees grasped for the cloud-draped Sun.

They are praying for Spring, Avice mused to herself as she shivered. And so am I.

Every few steps, she would peek at the baby and let out a breath. Relieved that, by nature’s blessing, the child’s tiny chest still rose and fell.

At what she guessed was mid-morning, as the covered Sun was half-way between where it had been at dawn and where it would be at midday, the tilt of the land changed. Skewing upwards, Avice had to put more effort into every stride.

Are you alright? Bramble asked, his rough voice full of concern.

“I am, it has just been a very long night,” Avice replied. The exhaustion had seeped into her, and every singular step felt like ten. “I am feeling the burn of this walk more than normal. Winter has taken the strength from me.”

Most villagers tried not to leave their homes during Winter, as it was so freezing – and Avice was no exception. Over the other seasons, her legs were strong and toned from walking the woods and hills. During this long cold spell, she had definitely softened. She only left her cottage in the woods, on the outskirts of Lamorna, when strictly necessarily: to gather firewood, to carve ice from the river for melting, and, of course, to attend her patients.

With the upwards tilt of the land, came the thinning of the trees. The vegetation changed into sparse, twiggy bushes, that were devoid of any foliage. It struck Avice as odd, that there was no birdsong here. On past trips at this time of year, sparrows, robins, and tits could typically be seen darting and trilling. The tiny creatures would be competing for the best nesting spots and showing off to potential mates.

But now?

Nothing.

All was barren and frozen, no life, besides Avice, Bramble, and the tiny baby were present. This observation set an ominous foreboding into the marrow of her bones, making her shiver with more than just the cold.

By the time she set her sights on Knucker Hill – where the well was located – it was nearly midday, and the Sun overhead still fought with the thick clouds. With her final, and perhaps thousandth, check on the breathing of the child, Avice began her ascent.

She trudged up the steep side of the hill. Tussocks of grass and small rocks made the surface uneven, while rabbit holes peppered the earth, setting even more traps for the unwary traveller. Avice found herself sweating beneath her many layers, the moisture peppering her upper lip. Her ample thighs burnt with the effort of the climb, and her breath steamed more heavily into the frigid air.

As she neared the summit, her boots slipped.

Avice! Bramble barked, his jaw snapping to catch her sleeve.

He missed.