Eldred reached for the bolt on the back door, starting to take a liking to the late-night chore his mother hand sent him on. He didn’t much like what was being said by the adults, and was starting to feel uneasy at just how angry they all seemed. He wanted to run somewhere safe, he wanted to run upstairs and crawl into his bed and wait for the men to leave.

The door swung open, and as he shut it he heard the first proper shout, although the words were unintelligible to Eldred’s ears.

A shudder ran down his spine, and he decided he would take the route through the fields to get to the water pump. He didn’t want to pass the men, especially not as his mother had told him to leave the house, and he was fairly certain it was because of them.

He crossed the garden swiftly, jumping over some of the beds to reach the small rusted gate they had at the end. He climbed over that as well, lifting the jug over first, and then started the journey across the field they lived beside. He cut across the middle- something he’d been scolded for before, although he didn’t think anyone would catch him in the darkness- and made his way to the other side, climbing over the fence there into the next adjoining field.

This one had been tilled recently, so he took the longer route around, rejoining the road at its base and continuing down at a jog. It was colder now with the sun set, and the lingering scent of rain made him worry that it might start up again. He shivered, this time from the cold, and sped up a little as he passed the first houses. The water pump their small family of two used wasn’t that far from their house- it was, on a pleasant day, just a walk down the road and a few yards up another.

He counted the houses as he went- ten of them, with gardens or fields between in some cases- and turned up the smaller lane. A light drizzle had started- little more than a fine drizzle at the moment it clung to his skin and clothes and shrouded the town in an eerie mist. It was dark here, and Eldred felt a mixture of unease and relief at how quiet it was. He heard the sounds of small creatures moving in the bushes and along the ground, with the occasional rustle that suggested something like a mouse or bird. He reached the pump, the black paint peeling from the well-worn handle, shining metal usually easy to see in daylight. He fumbled to find the spout and put his jug beneath it, and then followed the curve around until he held the handle.

He filled the jug up, the process taking about a minute using the meagre flow from the pump. He heard a distant door open and shut somewhere in the town, and then the hoot of an owl off in the distance. The rain was starting to pick up, further muffling and obscuring the sounds of the village, and he huddled in to lift up the jug.

Holding it in both hands now, Eldred started to shuffle out of the alley, taking his time so as not to drop the jug or spill any water. His way was lit by a few solitary candles from the houses he passed, and once he reached the end of those he was left in darkness. He hesitated at the turning for the field, wondering if it would be better to take the road now. He thought on it, eventually deciding to stick to the fields. He hadn’t seen or heard the group of men return from his house, and he didn’t want to meet them on his way back.

His thoughts started to turn back toward the situation at his house, and he started to feel some worry as he thought about his mother, and how she would have had to deal with the men on her own.

The fence between the two fields was more of an issue now with his heavier jug, so Eldred took the slightly longer walk to get to the gate, which he could open and avoid having to lift the jug for. Now in the field adjoining his house, he could see the glow from the fire on the hedges, and the small gap where their garden gate was.

He picked up the pace a little as home was in sight, bowing his head at the growing onslaught of rain. He was starting to feel very cold, and the cool surface of the pot against his chest was not helping. Shivering, he fumbled to open the garden gate, putting down the jug with some annoyance as he had to apply more force to open it. He looked warily toward the house, but saw nothing through the kitchen window.

This process was repeated with the kitchen door, and over the sound of the pouring rain he thought he could hear the sound of voices from within.

Opening the door, he was met with both the warmth of the fire and the deafening silence of the room beyond. There was some quality to the atmosphere that suggested that, until very recently, the room had been filled with voices.

He looked toward the living room as he entered, seeing only shadows cast by people, and felt dread start to rise in his chest.

The door sounded very loud as it closed, and the clatter of the jug as he set it down even more so.

“Eldred-” he heard his mother’s voice from the other room. She sounded tense and his name was uttered with urgency.

She was cut off by clipped words. “Come in here, boy.” He froze, already knowing that going into the living room would not be a good idea. He glanced at the door, wondering if he could go back out through it without having to confront the group of men. Just as he was working up the courage to do just that, Orwel, May’s father, appeared in the doorway. His face was contorted into a scowl, and his face was red with more than just anger.

Eldred took a few involuntary steps back, and the man’s scowl only deepened. He lurched forward, grabbing Eldred’s upper arm before the boy could dodge away. Eldred yelped at the sudden contact and the tightness of the man’s grip, trying to wriggle out as the man started to pull him into the other room.

“Eldred go back outside-” his mother started, and Eldred could hear the fear tinting her words. She faltered when he appeared in the doorway, being dragged by the adult. She was kneeling on the floor, other men standing around her. There was the imprint of a hand on her face, and tears were in her eyes. She shuffled toward him, getting her feet under her long enough to get beside him.

Orwel released him with what Eldred could only describe as disgust, and he stumbled as the man shoved him toward his mother. As soon as she got within reach she held him, gentle putting him behind her as she faced the men.

“This doesn’t have to be hard,” Orwel said, looking pointedly at Eldred. “We just want our children to be safe.”

His mother shook her head, getting to her feet again to stand between them. “I won’t let you harm a single hair on his head. Not a single one.” She moved one hand behind her, and Eldred took it. She gave it a reassuring squeeze, although she did not look back at him.

One of the other men spoke, then, words slurring a little. “Come’n Talaith- the kids coulda been killed today-”

“I won’t let you,” she said again, her voice low and carrying a threat of its own. “You have no right, coming in here-”

Orwel shook his head, stepping forward. His mother backed away, guiding Eldred with her, toward the kitchen. “We didn’t want to do it this way, but you’re not giving us a choice.” He lunged then, closing the distance between them and grabbing Talaith’s shoulder, hard. He wrenched her forward toward the ground between then men, pulling her back from the door. Eldred was dragged along until his hand slipped free, and he stumbled into the grown man, crying out in surprise and fear.

The other men closed in to hold his mother where she was as Orwel grabbed him again, somehow more forcefully than before, shoving him back toward the kitchen. “It’ll only take a moment, Talaith. Just a moment.”

“No!” she yelled, her voice rasping the word as she struggled. Fear rose in a wave in Eldred’s chest as she reached toward him. He tried to reach back toward her, to take her hand again, but the man had a firm grip and lifted him from his feet. He kicked and struggled, and Orwel was forced to instead drag the boy across the floor, unable to quell him long enough to carry him.

He was pulled into the kitchen again, and pushed down to the floor. He struggled, trying in vain to shove or push the man away, to release the grip on his shoulders.

“You’re only-” Orwel grunted, reaching up toward the counter for something, “-making this more difficult-” his fingers closed around the heavy iron that sat atop its counter, and Eldred’s eyes went wide with fear, “-for everyone.” The last words he snarled, bringing down the iron with some force, smacking it into Eldred’s right cheek.

He screamed at the pain, struggles ceasing for a moment as agony struck his entire body. His vision went dark for a moment, fading out with the pain, before it swelled back, blurred through tears. His brain was too muddled to think coherently when he felt the strong fingers loosening on his shoulders, instead moving to close around his neck.

From the other room, he heard his mother’s panicked shouting, the distant sounds of struggle just barely registering in his mind. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, and his hands were useless and clumsy as he reached up toward the darkening figure above him. He knew he was losing consciousness, blackness slowly creeping its way back across his vision. He heard a sudden crack, and everything seemed to go silent.

Then there was a sudden gust of cold air, and he heard the sound of the kitchen door slamming open, wooden door shaking with the impact on the wall. The sound seemed too loud and too distant at the same time- something that was happening in a dream, or to someone else.

The pressure on his neck was released all of a sudden, and through his dimming consciousness he could make out the shape of a figure falling back from him, and another, glinting shape advancing.

Then, everything went dark as the pain grew too much, and he slipped into the darkness with relief.