Angus ran though the forest, his breathing laboured. This part of the forest was old and not maintained by humans, with thick undergrowth making the way through difficult. As he used a tree to steady himself climbing over a rotten log, he left a bloody handprint on the bark. It was late autumn, and sodden leaves covered the ground. Through bare branches in the overstory, Angus saw dark grey clouds looming overhead.

"Oh, fantastic," he said between breaths. "I always wanted to die sopping wet."

*

"Cassie, dear!" Cassie stood up from her weeding, stretching out her back. She wore a head cloth to ward off the sun (or, considering the lowering skies, the rain), and a rough grey wool tunic over a nicer shirt her mother had made for her. Her stockings were dyed brown with dandelions, and her leather boots were decorated with green stitchwork at the calf. She turned to the voice, and gave a wave.

"I'm here," she said, moving to the gate where her mother stood.

"I'll take over love, Gran Ira needs help with the pigs again."

"Why does she even have pigs?" Cassie muttered. She wasn't even sure Gran Ira's pigs were her pigs. One, she was sure, was at least two thirds wild boar.

"She lives away from the pastures, she's too frail to bring goats back and forth these days."

"That's her fault for breeding devil goats who can't be trusted to be left at pasture," Cassie said, unsympathetic. Her mother my have forgiven Gran Ira, but Cassie still remembered what one of the old goats had done to a boy her age to get them banned in the first place.

"In any case, the pigs have foraged too far for her to find. Go help her, dear, for me?"

"Why doesn't she just sing them out?"

"Cassie, she isn't a witch! What lies have they been telling you in the village?"

"Never mind, Mum, I was only joking," Cassie sighed, hopping over the fence. "I'm on my way."

*

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

The undergrowth had cleared out a bit now, and Angus could move faster through the forest. So could his pursuers. She heard their dogs call out as they followed his scent. He ran into a clearing, and surprised a drove of pigs as he ran through their midst. Hopefully that might slow the dogs down...

*

"Cassie, dear, don't go so fast, my old bones can't keep up."

Cassie sighed, and waited for Gran Ira to hobble up to her. Cassie's mother may be fooled, but Cassie was sure Gran Ira's infirm state was just an act. Once she had come across her lugging an entire tree trunk back to the little house where she sold bacon and firewood. Once she had caught her talking to a squirrel.

"The prints say they went that way," Cassie said when Gran Ira caught up, gesturing at a few marks she had noticed as she waited.

"That is good spotting, my dear, but I have a hunch they may be closer to--"

Gran Ira broke off as a young man came bursting through the trees. He stopped and stared at them as he caught his breath.

"Good afternoon to you," Cassie said politely. Apart from a few wandering templemen and adventuring tinkers, this man was the first person she had seen who had come from outside her village. He was wearing hunting gear: clothes easy to move in with leather guards strapped to his limbs and his chest. His hair was black, and wet with sweat. The man took one last deep breath, and exhaled slowly. He bowed.

"Good afternoon, young lady," he said. "I don't suppose you could direct me to the nearest village?"

Cassie had opened her mouth to speak when Gran Ira clutched at her arm, her long taloned fingers gripping hard at her flesh.

"Village? Oh, there's no village here abouts, young man," Grand Ira said brightly. "Me and my grand-niece just live a quiet life in the forest by ourselves." The man looked at her for a moment, then turned to Cassie.

"You'll tell me the truth, won't you?" he asked.

"Don't say anything, Cassie, he's a Trickster, he'll carry his misfortune and calamity to any place he lies in, don't--"

"Oh, shut up, hag," the man said, and cupped Cassie's head in his hands. Behind her, Gran Ira screamed silently as her tongue fell out of her head. All Cassie could see was the man's eyes, dark and deep and muddy like drowning pools.

"You'll tell me the truth," he said at her. "Where is your village?"

Cassie took a breath.

"In the opposite direction to those dogs," she said. The man broke his hold on her head and turned around, cursing. Cassie stumbled back, as the man flew off in the direction of their village. Five seconds later a hunting party of dogs and riders thundered past. Mixed in with the pack of dogs was a very confused wild boar, who suddenly darted out in Cassie's direction. Gran Ira grabbed a tusk and swung herself onto the boar's back, galloping off into the deep woods without a word.

"What about me?! Oh, I knew she was a witch!" Cassie grumbled as the hunt faded into the distance. She had just begun to pick her way back to the village when the secondary party of riders caught up with her.