It was late afternoon before Sniffer woke. He was lying under the blankets on the floor. Tiddles was stood looking out of the window. He swore that the beast was becoming more human every day.
“Hey boy,” he said.
He turned and growled at him.
“All right, give me a second.” He got out from under the blankets and opened the door. Tiddles went outside, did his business, and started walking down the street. He had free rein to go anywhere and was sure he went to the brick house to get more snacks from Martha. Sniffer sorted himself out, pulled on some fresh clothes and had a wash. A woman in town had been washing his clothes for him, and he put his dirty ones into a bag she had given him. He pulled his boots and jacket on, picked up the bag, and walked out into the afternoon sun. The sky was clear for a change, with no signs of the grey clouds which had been bringing the recent snowfall, and the sun reflected brightly off the snow-covered surfaces. He had to squint from the glare. He went to the centre, found the woman who did his laundry and handed her his bag, thanking her. He didn’t know if he had to pay for it at some point but wasn’t worried. The door to the bar was open, so he headed over; he poked his head inside and saw one of the men whom he recalled being called Farrel and seen serving in there previously. “Hey, any chance of a bite to eat?” he asked.
“Yeah, I can heat some stew. Give me a few minutes; I've only just opened.” He said.
“Sure, no problem. I will pop back in a bit.” Said Sniffer. He walked back outside and saw a group of three men heading into the centre of town from the direction of the brick house. They marched purposefully and headed straight towards where Sniffer stood outside the bar. Sniffer felt slightly alarmed as they approached him, wondering what he may have done. He was about to whistle for Tiddles, but as the men reached him, they completely ignored him and went straight into the bar. He inwardly sighed and headed over towards the brick house. As he approached the door, he could hear a commotion inside and a glass smashing. He heard Doc’s raised voice and then Holland’s. He ventured to the door and walked in.
Holland and Doc were squared up to each other, not more than four feet apart. They were both staring at each other with hate in their eyes.
“She will hang for what she has done,” Holland shouted.
“You can’t hang her after what she has been through. Will you just shut up for a minute and let me explain,” Doc shouted back.
“The evil little bitch killed her uncle,” he screamed back.
“And as I keep trying to explain, she did it in self-defence,” Doc shouted.
They both turned as Sniffer walked in, the shattered remnants of a glass lying on the floor between them. Doc spoke first at Sniffer's presence, “If someone committed a crime in self-defence, what would you do to them?” she asked, glaring at him, her eyes burning into his core.
Sniffer felt this was a now-or-never moment being put on the spot the way he was. “It depends on what has happened to deem it self-defence,” he said, shrugging his shoulders cautiously. The look on Doc’s face, which could have struck a man dead at fifty paces, eased ever so slightly.
“Well, at least someone willing to hear the facts. You have opened one hell of a can of worms,” Doc stated, locking eyes with him.
Sniffer felt like he was being stripped bare, bent over, and spanked by her, and in the back of his mind, it was saying, ‘Yes, please’. He forced the thought away and carefully replied. “What can of worms have I opened?”
“This is what I have been trying to explain to this stupid pig-headed son of mine for the past 10 minutes if he would just shut up and listen, but as soon as I told him she had confessed, he ranted about hanging and sent a group of his lackeys over to the bar to get Fika from her room,” Doc stated.
The only word that Sniffer had heard from that exchange was “Son,” Sniffer said with a look of shock and surprise etched on his face.
“Yes, my son, for all I have tried, he is still as stubborn and as much of an arsehole as his bastard rapist of a father was.” She said, staring at Holland.
Holland glared at his mother, his cheeks burning red with anger, “Fuck you, don’t you dare compare me to that prick.” He replied.
Sniffer stood open-mouthed, turning between Holland and Doc one way and the next. “My full name is Elizabeth Jane Holland”, she said, “and this is Edward Holland, my arrogant and self-centred idiot of a son, but since he does not like the name Edward, he just goes by Holland.” She said, glaring at him.
Holland stood with a sneer on his face and arms folded, looking defiantly at his mother.
“I have been trying to tell him that Fika has confessed all and that she killed her uncle. She did try to make it look like a Spylore attack but was unaware of the puncture wounds or any other aspects around the attacks. She was only aware of what she had heard in the bar. She has also told me why she attacked Sam, which the pig-headed lout here hasn’t allowed me to explain yet.”
Holland huffed audibly at her, and to Sniffer's eyes, it seemed childish and quite humorous seeing him behave in such a way as the supposed town leader. He looked like a spoiled child, and he wasn’t sure if he would be able to deal with him in the same way again.
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“Go on, then get to your pathetic point across what was her reason for killing him in cold blood and faking an attack,” he said in a snappy tone.
Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed at his reply, but she kept a calm tone as she explained, “Her uncle Sam had been abusing her since she was a young girl; it started when she was seven or eight years old, not long after she came under his guardianship, she is not exactly sure when. For years, she had been trying to find a way to tell someone about the abuse she suffered, but her uncle was so beloved in the township she did not know how. She had no immediate family apart from her uncle and felt so embarrassed about what he did and made her do that she couldn’t confide in anyone, so she kept it a secret. Living with the torture and torment it brought her."
Sniffer felt sick to his stomach at the thought of such an act. Taking advantage of a helpless child made his blood immediately boil.
Elizabeth continued, “Apparently when Sam drank too much, he would often visit her. The abuse had stopped eventually when she was twelve or so, and for the last few years, Fika had thought it was all over. Two nights ago, once the bar had closed, Sam had hit the nectar harder than normal. He had then taken it upon himself to go and visit her in her room. The difference is that she now wasn’t as small or defenceless as before. In his drunken state, she was able to force him out of her room and managed to lock the door. Apparently, he had banged on it for a while before giving up and leaving her alone.”
Sniffer noticed that Holland’s expression had also changed and probably looked like his own, showing a different kind of anger that only hearing such vile stories can draw.
“Fika asked him why he had come to her room the next day. He couldn’t remember anything and laughed it off, saying he didn’t. She told him what he had done to her when she was younger, and he told her she was talking rubbish, and it was all in her head. He had then left to go and feed the Keefir. The blind denial was the moment that Fika cracked. She entered the kitchen, picked up one of the butcher's knives, and followed him to the paddock. She challenged him again, threatening him with the knife, trying to force him to admit what he had done to her. He refused. Denying everything and then he had lunged to grab the knife from her. She had lashed out in anger as he came for her, and with a rather 'unlucky' strike, she not only caught him across the face but also caught his neck and pierced his artery. He collapsed to the ground, bleeding out from the wound. She was that scared and did not know what to do as she had just watched her uncle die in front of her. She had not wanted to kill him, just make him admit he was wrong; she still loved him as her uncle. After all, he was her only family, and the past few years had changed as she matured. She loved working at the bar and had learned so much from him and just wanted him never to try and abuse her again. After he had bled out in blind panic, not knowing what to do, the only thing she could think of was the recent Spylore attacks and what she had heard in the bar about them slashing people with their claws. So, she then cut his face a further three times to make it look like an attack.” Elizabeth paused.
"So, she cut his face after he was dead?" Holland said.
"Yes, she was terrified about what she had done and, in a moment of fear, thought it the best action," Elizabeth said.
“I knew the wounds weren’t right for a Spylore. They were too precise. I wondered how she had created them,” Sniffer replied.
"After she told me what she had done, I rechecked his wounds, and they are, as you say, way too neat compared to any previous victims I have seen." She replied.
“So, she has been abused since being a young girl and ...,” Holland said.
Doc interrupted, “Yes, nearly the same as what happened to me apart from the fact that I fell pregnant at 12 with you, and that bastard wasn’t a relative of mine.”
"I understand, but she tried to conceal what she had done," Holland stated.
"Wouldn't you?" Doc replied snappily.
"I suppose, but it is still murder," Holland said.
"I am not disputing the fact, but she does not deserve to hang!" Doc replied.
Sniffer listened to the exchange. The age difference now seemed to make more sense because, looking at them both, he thought Holland was in his early to mid-twenties and that Doc could, at the most, have only been in her mid-thirties up to a maximum of forty, but he thought that was a push too far.
"I think she has punished herself enough to be honest," Sniffer interjected. "She is going to have to live with the knowledge that she killed her uncle for the rest of her life. I do not know the laws of your town but hanging her for an instance of madness doesn't sit right with me."
Holland stood contemplating Sniffer's comments, then turned, and looked at his mother ashamedly, “Sorry Doc, I should have listened. It is still murder, though."
Sniffer raised a questioning eyebrow at the exchange. Elizabeth saw Sniffer's expression and replied, “He never calls me mum or mother. Don’t worry. It’s too low for a man of his stature. At least he does not try to call me Elizabeth; otherwise, he would get a clout.” She glowered at him.
Holland's cheeks flushed. He wasn’t sure if it was anger or embarrassment.
“Well, under the circumstances, if I had found out something like that was happening, it would not have been a slit throat he ended up with. I would have made him eat his cock.” Sniffer stated flatly.
Elizabeth let out a snort, “Sorry, that was inappropriate.” She said, now flushing herself.
“I think I will leave you to your discussion. At least it is confirmed that it was not another beast. I will head over to check the den area before it gets too late.” Sniffer said he walked outside and blew his whistle. As he waited for Tiddles to arrive, the three men who had gone over to the bar walked towards the brick house, escorting a terrified-looking Fika between them.
Sniffer looked at her, smiling. “Don’t worry, it may not be as bad as you think,” He said as she was ‘frog’ marched past. Moments later, Tiddles appeared bounding around a corner with what looked like some form of Wild One vermin sticking out of the side of his mouth.
“For fucks sake, not everyone wants to see you eat your dinner,” Sniffer said to him. Tiddles threw his head back, flicking the remains of the Wild One into the air, opening his mouth, catching it, and swallowing it whole. They went back via the bar where Farrel had now had time to warm through some stew, and he grabbed himself two bowls before they set off towards the river crossing. As he sat eating the stew, his display was triggered.
You have been granted the rare skill Detection level 1 for your recent dealings in the township of New Haven.
‘What the hell?’ he thought, reviewing the details; he initially thought it related to his tracking capabilities.
Detection allows for proficiency in seeking the truth. You can further increase your skills through study, critical thinking, and observation. The skill automatically gives you a 20% chance of instantly knowing if someone is speaking the truth. This percentage role will automatically trigger for future activities which meet the requirements.
‘Well, I have absolutely no idea of the requirements,’ he thought, but knowing he now had a truth skill made him smile. He finished off the stew, thanked Farrel, and left the bar. "We are off to recheck the den to see what those Spylore are up to," Sniffer told Tiddles. Tiddles looked at him, growling in agreement.