In my seventh year everything changed yet again. I had managed to work my way up to the Entwood by that time and had ventured only a little way in, using the trees and the undergrowth for what little cover they could provide in the autumn rains.
I had been there a few days already, forraging for what little I could to supplement the few goodies I had left from my last daring raid on a quiet little village which was admittedly not very much. It was growing dark and I was tired so I climbed a tree and settled down in a fork of the branches to rest for the night. I had, by that point, become very adept at climbing an swinging from branch to branch in a bid to stay out of the reach of any predators in the vicinty so this was nothing new to me.
Just as I was dozing off, my nose caught the faint whiff of cooking meat. It smelled so good and I had not had fresh meat for such a long time. Oh, I had eaten pies and salted rations and the like, but freshly cooked succulent, tender, mouth-watering meat was something else entirely. I had, that day, allowed myself a handful of nuts and a piece of stale bread in and the very scent of that food made my stomach growl so loudly! I knew it would be a dangerous task to retrieve some but I found that I did not much care. I wanted - no, I needed - to feel that warm grease sliding down my gullet and the texture of seared flesh upon my tongue.
Leaving my small stolen scrip within the branches of the tree, I hopped lightly down to the earthen ground below and tiptoed my way forward. The flicker of a campfire between the trunks rather than the heavenly smell is what eventually led me to my destination and, carefuly, silently, I worked my way beneath a bush to survey the little campsite. I watched for a while, taking in the signs of life.
The fire itself was quite small. Above it, fashioned from two forked and one long stick, was a spit which held the prize. Nearby was a single bedroll and a backpack, a tin cup, a plate and a fork. Put bluntly, everything indicated that only one person rested in this place and whoever it was was currently not present. Knowing I would not have another opportunity like this for a long time to come, I took my chances and emerged from my hiding place at a sprint. I closed the distance with ease, even on my short legs, and reached out my hand to snag the stick holding the hot meat. My fingertips were less than half an inch away from the smoothe bark when a set of much longer and stronger fingers curled themselves about my thin wrist.
Startled by the speed and silence with which I had been caught, I first looked down to the gnarled digets in disbelief before letting my gaze travel up along the wiry arm, knotted with old mans musculature, and finally up into a withered but kindly face framed by greying hair.
"Of all the people I expected to steal my dinner," the man said in a deep voice tinged with amusement. "It was certainly not a twiggy little miss in rags."
I said nothing, instead trying to pull my arm from his grasp that I might run away. His huge bushy mustache curled up at the edges, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled down at me, but for all that he only increased his grip.
"I gather you are hungry, little one," he continued amiably. "There is more than enough here to feed the two of us. Why not join me?"
Dumbly, I shook my head and tried to pull away once more but again he would not let me. Try as I might, I could not resist as he pulled me around the fire and pushed me gently down to sit upon a fallen log.
"Now, I am going to let you go. I might be old but I have sharp eyes and swift legs. If you try to run, I will catch you. If you sit there and behave like a good girl, I will share my meal with you. Will you run?"
He waggled his eyebrows in a comical manner as he looked to me for an answer. I simply hung my head as I weighed up the options. To leave ran the risk of him following and, sprightly though I was, he had much longer legs than I. The speed and stealth with which he had captured me proved that I was little match for him so running away would not likely see me get very far. On the other hand, to stay meant that I could eat some of this wonderous fare and I could always sneak away after he had fallen asleep. Eventually I shook my head and, after a moment, I felt his vice-like fingers release my poor wrist.
As I sat there eagerly awaiting the food and rubbing at the red marks now beginning to show against my alabaster skin, the old man chatted away to me. At first he fired off question after question about who I was, where had I come from, where were my parents, was I alone and so on. None of them I answered, remaining in complete silence until finally he changed tactic as he placed the plate brimming with food upon my lap.
"I should think that your mother told you never to ralk to strangers," he spoke between mouthfuls, watching me all the while. "And you, being such a good girl, have listened well to her advice. Allow me to introduce myself, then. I am Esquire Escgel, at your service, or I was at least. Now I am just plain old Escgel, but that will change soon enough!"
He went on in the vein for a while, working to gain my trust by telling me all about himself. He was, it seemed, a landowner responsible for a collection of villages far to the south-east near Aldberg. He had found himself in dire straights and subsequently disgraced after a more powerful lordling had taken a dislike to something he had said thus his lands and title had been stripped from him. Homeless, penniless and seeking restoration, he had joined a band of travelling men to tide him over until he could garner the evidence he needed to clear his name.
That was all well and good, I thought, but I still did not trust him. I had only just met him and although he had been kind and had fed me, he could well be lying about it all. Even after his tale, I would not speak save to give a thank you for the food.
Offering me the bedroll for the night, the old man set about making himself a bed out of fallen branches and leaves. I gratefuly accepted although I had no intention of staying for longer than it took him to fall asleep and for me to pilfer anything of use in his belongings. Still, the best of intentions often go awry and with my belly full of good food for a change, I fell asleep there almost immediately.
