Shroud

Feet and hearts pounding, and gripping hands tight, the two children tore through the fog. It boiled around them like a live thing, like it was in cahoots with the sinister figure on the ridge. On his horse. That green cape fluttering, that axe-wedge of a face turned on them like a torch beam.

Between the fog, and the wind, and the hills all around... everything sounded close by one minute, and far away the next. The shouting, and clanging of metal on metal... Was it close by, and muffled by the fog? Or further away, but rebounding off the hillside? The hoofbeats could be filtering down the hillside, or they could be right behind them.

The thought made them push harder, try to go faster. Ignore the rocks underfoot that seemed to have multiplied, grown bigger, and become more unevenly-shaped. The better to trip them.

"D'you think he - D'you think-" Joanie gasped, clutching her side with her free hand. "Do you think he's behind us?"

"Don't... know..." Ned panted, his hand even slippier than usual, swamping hers. Those hoofbeats sounded so close, the figure was surely leaning forward over his horse's neck, that pale face set, eyes glittering...

"I can't..." Joanie had no breath to sob, "I can't..."

"You've... got... to...!" Ned heaved the words out.

Joanie stumbled again, and this time her hand slipped from her brother's, and down she went. Sprawling, and bawling, caving at last to the fear that threatened to swallow her.

Ned, to his credit, stopped to help her to her feet. This was a prime opportunity to glance up and see how close the figure was, and whether he was alone.

It had gone.

"Joanie, it's okay. He's gone. Look. Gone."

Joanie pushed herself to her feet, hiccoughing, and swiped at the tears on her cheek. She took hold of her courage and looked back up the path.

"But where did he go?"

The pair drew closer together. This situation, while slightly less urgent than before, was not an improvement. Not knowing where he was... They both looked around, trying to see through the fog.

"We've just got to get home, Ned said.

Joanie tried to take a step, and yelped. "My foot! Ned, it hurts!"

"Come on," he wheedled, "You've been saying you want to go home for ages, and now we're going. That's what you want, isn't it? You don't want to be out here in the dark..."

"Oh, Ned, don't!" Joanie wailed. "I do want to go home, I swear, it just hurts- really hurts-" She tried another step and burst out with fresh sobs.

"I can't carry you, Joanies, you're too big," Ned fretted. "You have to try. Please."

He didn't say, what if the man on the horse comes back? He didn't have to.

"Look. Stay here," Ned said. "Just sit here on this rock, and-"

"You're not leaving me here?" Her voice rose in panic, and she clutched at his arm, eyes wide and face white.

"No, no, of course not, he said, disentangling himself and pointing at some undergrowth a little way away. "I'm just going over there, see? To get you a stick. A big one. So you can lean on it. To help you walk."

"I don't want to stay here by myself," Joanie admitted, her voice small and trembling. She expected her brother to snap, well you'll have to, but maybe being so frightened himself made him more sympathetic.

"I'll whistle," he said, drawing himself up tall, and pretending a confidence he didn't feel. "How's that?" You'll be able to hear me the whole time. And I know you can't whistle, but you can keep talking to me. So that I know you're alright."

He didn't let on that he didn't much fancy being on his own either, or his fear that the green-cloaked man might have somehow got past them and be waiting ahead, in those bushes. The sounds of hooves and shouting had seemed to come from all around...

Joanie bit her lip, to stop her fear escaping, but what if he gets you? If she said that out loud, it might stop him going to find her a stick, and then how would they get home?

Ned walked away, swallowed by the fog after only a handful of paces, but whistling all the while just like he promised. It started sounding muffled in no time at all.

"Please hurry!" Joanie called. Ned's friendly whistle seemed to come from ever such a long way away. "You haven't gone too far have you?" Joanie called a little louder, and strained her ears for the whistling response.

It was quiet.

Joanie listened harder.

Nothing. She couldn't hear any rustling from the undergrowth, no twigs snapping. No bats either, or insects, or .... anything.

"Ned?" she shouted. "Not funny Ned, come back!"

If that man had got him - if it even was a man - Ned would have shouted, wouldn't he? Struggled.

Maybe not, whispered her treacherous imagination. Not if the man in the cloak has a knife...

It was getting darker. Joanie hugged her knees, afraid to raise her voice a fourth time. She shivered. Her skin felt prickly all over again, and her chest felt tight.

Movement in the corner of her vision made her whip her head round. There was a shape there, a shadow, the suggestion of a cloak... It was too tall to be Ned... it was gone again.

There was that sound again, the sound of someone crying. It sounded tiny, right on the edge of hearing, and then, clear as a bell, right behind her. She jumped, and craned to see over her shoulder.

Nothing. Or maybe... No. That was just a shadow, wasn't it? Just a shadow.

A tal, cloaked figure, here, and then not...

The fog thickened even more, oppressive and threatening to choke her. She tried to call for Ned again, but, it came out as a strangled sob.

The thud and clatter of horses hooves on the stony ground turned her blood icy. Terror yanked her to her feet like a puppet on strings. Wobbling and whimpering, all her weight on one foot, she tried to shake off the feeling of disorientation and figure out which direction the noises were coming from... She tried to get ready to run.

The figure loomed out of the fog right in front of her, and she shrieked and fell back on to the rocky ground.

*

Thank you for reading!

TBC! The next one should be the last 😁