After a few minutes, his mother straightened, breaking the immediate contact, and pulled the door closed. Eldred continued to cling to her, his breathing uneven and face smeared with tears and snot. She checked him for injuries, tutting at the fresh scratches on his limbs and pursing her lips when she saw the torn coat and trouser leg. When she was satisfied that he was not in immediate danger, she spoke.

“Come now,” she coaxed, guiding him toward the table, “Sit with me and tell me what happened.”

And he did. She sat down in one chair and offered her lap, and he climbed up to sit on her knee as she cradled him in her arms, rough hands clasped around his side. He struggled to start, at first talking about what they had been doing that day, and then jumping back and talking about yesterday, the story coming out as a tangled mess interrupted regularly by his hiccoughing breaths and sniffles.

A few minutes into his first attempt, she stopped him, “Take a deep breath now,” she said soothingly, tucking a strand of his hair away from his eyes. “Tell me what happened yesterday, and then you can tell me what happened today.”

He stuttered a few more times, and after a while the story started to come out smoothly. His voice gained confidence as he went, and as his breathing came back under his control, and he told her of how the three of them had gathered sticks and branches, and how he had noticed everything seemed to quiet. He told her of the dog’s first appearance, and the chase that ensued. He told her about how it had focused on him, about how he had run and run and run, and then found the burrow beneath the tree. He told her how scared he had been, how terrifying it had been to see the creature’s head pushing into the space that he had hoped would be safe. He told her about how it had stopped all of a sudden, wary of something else in the forest, and then about how it had left. Then he told her about how he had not wanted to tell her what had happened, about how it had seemed like everything was fine, that he didn’t want to be stopped from going into the woods, that he was sure it wouldn’t happen again, and about how he regretted that he didn’t tell her.

She listened, and when he stopped to catch his breath, she spoke. “What happened today?” she asked, looking at him with growing concern.

He’d been unable to meet her eyes again, and it took him a few moments of consideration before he had figured out where to pick up. He started by talking about the armoured figure- about how he’d seen the horse outside, and then he told her of finding his friends, and how none of them had told their parents either, and that they had all gone to the forest. He told her of the fort they had made, revelling for a few brief moments in what they had made. Then he told her of the dog’s reappearance, and then of the other dog. Then their desperate flight, the terror that had risen again. He told her of how May had tripped, and how he could see the dogs gaining on them, how he knew he’d had to do something. He told her that he had run again, and the dogs had followed, and he had made it back to his hiding spot.

He told her about how scared he had been, and she stroked his hair when he went silent, tears welling again in his eyes at the memory. She reassured him, holding him tightly and telling him it was okay, he didn’t need to say any more- she understood what had happened.

Then he told her about how the figure had come to his rescue.

“-And they weren’t moving anymore. And she said- she said she’d come because of dad, and then she told me to come home, and I did.” The end to his story came out in a rush, the words tumbling out uninvited and uncontrolled, and he was left breathing unevenly and leaning against his mother, staring into the fire that crackled at the other side of the room.

She didn’t speak for a while, just holding him tightly and stroking his head soothingly. When she did speak, her tone was odd- there was a scolding note to it, but it lacked the edge of anger that he had thought she would use. “You foolish boy,” she said, resting her head on his, “You should have told me yesterday.”

He lowered his head in shame, his face feeling hot.

“At the very least you should have trusted that I wouldn’t have wanted you to go back into the woods- there’s a reason I don’t let you go to the river, Eldred, and it’s not to stop you from having fun.”

“I know,” he said, in a very small voice.

“It’s so that you’ll be safe,” she continued, peering around to look at his face. He didn’t meet her eyes. “And I’m just glad that you’re safe now, okay? You did a very brave and a very stupid thing today, and I’m just glad that you’re still here with me.” Her voice caught, and she squeezed him again, once more resting her head against his.

They sat for a while, Eldred feeling his mother’s warm tears on his head, and holding on to her tighter.

“I won’t go back to the woods,” he said after a while, “and I won’t go to the river, either.”

She didn’t say anything, but he heard her catch her breath, and her trembling stopped.

When she pulled away just a short while later, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her dress, she gave him a shaky smile. “I’ll thank Ness the next time I see her,” she said. At Eldred’s frown, she clarified, “The person who visited us this morning- the one who found you in the woods.”

“She said she would come by later,” he said, suddenly remembering the words.

His mother’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, and he thought that she didn’t look entirely happy with the prospect. He wondered why his mother might dislike this ‘Ness’ and decided that he would try to discern the answer later that day, if he could. “I’d better hurry up with your dinner, in that case,” she said, and he slid off her lap to allow her to stand up. “Can you change out of those clothes and clean yourself up a little? I finished mending yesterday’s trousers, so those are upstairs.”

He nodded, wiping at his eyes again with his sleeve, and headed upstairs. His mother, satisfied, turned to cooking, and left him to it.

He changed and washed, wiping the smudges of dirt from his hands and face with the aid of the fading light. He had returned home earlier than the day before- there was still sunlight- but telling the story had taken a while, and the sun was starting to set now, sinking lower and lower in the sky.

He re-emerged downstairs, greeted by the smell of a cooking meal, and sat down beside the fire, basking in its warmth and allowing his mind to empty.

Time passed, crackling fire accented by the occasional sound from his mother’s work, and he started to relax. The events of the day were still fresh in his mind, and any mental prodding threatened to bring tears to his eyes once more, but staring at the fire allowed him to think of little, and slowly the tension started leaving him, and he started to get very tired.

Eldred jerked awake at the sudden touch to his shoulder, lifting himself from the warm stone that bordered the fire and looking up at his mother. “Food,” she said with a smile, nodding toward the table.

It was good and warm. She sat across the table from him, not eating herself but stitching away as she ever was by the light of her lantern. They didn’t speak, instead just enjoying one another’s company and the silence of the night.

That was until the knock on the door.

His mother looked up from her sewing, giving Eldred a reassuring smile as she put it down on the table and started toward the front door. Eldred, assuming it to be the armoured figure Ness, lost interest pretty quickly, returning his attention to the bowl before him.

He heard the door open, and then almost immediately after heard a male voice from outside, words full of hard edges. “It’s gone too far, Tailaith.”

Immediately, Eldred straightened, the tone the man used putting him on edge. He twisted in his seat to stare, trying to place both the voice and face of the man who stood at their door. He could see others behind, a small group of the town’s men. His mother had only opened the door a crack, and he could see her features illuminated by a lantern they carried, set in a worried expression.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-” she started, a little taken aback.

“Yes. Yes you do. We’ve let you stay here, you and that boy. We’ve put up with you, despite what your husband was, despite what that- that boy is.” The words came out as venom, and Eldred slid from his chair, concern building. He recognised the voice, although the man’s face was in too much shadow for him to place.

“Whatever you think my dead husband did, I can assure you he did not. And-”

The man cut her off again, anger rising in his voice. “He put- He put my daughter in harm’s way, Talaith. He put my May and Matthew’s Cal in danger.” The man was May’s father- tall and intimidating, he’d never liked Eldred. In fact, it was usually him that May had to sneak past to join himself and Cal whenever they went out.

His mother drew herself up against him, but it was not to him that she spoke. “Eldred, would you be a dear and fetch some water?”

Puzzlement drifted across his mind. She wanted him to fetch water now? It was dark outside, she never asked him to fetch water this late. He hesitated, unsure if she was being serious.

She glanced behind her and raised an eyebrow at his stillness. “Now please, dear.”

He nodded slowly as she turned back, and lingered for a moment longer before he turned and collected the jug they usually used. It was lighter than it was when it was full, but he didn’t think they really needed to get more water now. He glanced back again, hearing the continued conversation as voices started to rise.

“-sn’t his fault and you know it,” his mother snapped, disgust in her tone.