Chapter 3: Chapter 3
At eighteen, Hazel was totally free from all the angst and pettiness that came with that age, she didn't have the majority too. She still believed in fairy tales. She believed the world was a good place, and only some error which may never be corrected caused her mother and her to live secluded away from the rest of the villagers, and very close to the forest.
She went down more often into the village now, she had become an accomplished huntress and the village that was on the brink of famine bought more wild life now that domesticated meat had become very scarce.
It was a cold Misty morning, and Hazel, loathe to have a wash with icy water simply took off her night clothes and put on a clean frock. She was to go down to the village and sell her catch from the previous day.
Side - stepping her mother who was still sleeping, she headed to the back of the cottage. If she could write, and had a quil and paper, she would have left a note for her mama. She heard not learnt to read and write however, and though she could easily get a quil from a porcupine, or any such animal, ink and paper were so expensive that only the gentle folk could afford them. Her mother however would know that Hazel had gone down to the village, once she woke up and found herself alone.
At the back of the cottage, Hazel snapped the necks of the three rabbits she had caught the previous day, and that of the deer. She produced a pocket knife from inside her petticoats, and slit their throats, allowing the blood to flow into the ground. She always killed the animals just before she went down into the village, to ensure that the meat stayed fresh.
Satisfied that all the blood had drained from the animals, she tied a rope through all of them, and suspended them on a stick. She was going to carry them that way, with the stick on her shoulders down to the village.
Normally, she would have liked to do all these in the rags she grew up in, or wearing men's breeches - it seemed more suitable, but with the impending famine in the land, she had made a tiny sum from her sales, and her mama insisted she dress appropriately.
Down at the village, children avoided her, and she tried each time not to be affected by the way they ran away from her as though she were a leper. Now, as she entered the village, she passed a few children who had gathered playing outside, singing the were wolf song, even though it was a little too early for games, but as soon as they saw her, they took to their heels.
At times, some brave children did not run, but instead stared her down with a mixture of fear and childish impudence. Hazel who had been curious about children, since she did not get to see a lot of Children while growing up always felt hurt by the reactions, at times she bout sweets for them from the money she had made selling her game, but they either fled, ignoring her gifts, or stood their grounds, staring but keeping their distance.
It was not the reaction of the children to her presence that affected her today, however. It was their song. They had been singing the were wolf song.
A few years back, that song had been banned, and anyone caught singing it was subjected to a flogging at the village square. Then, there had been talk of the cities being rulled by the werewolves. It was just talk however. No one had ever seen a werewolf before, and as secluded as the village was from other cities, with people seldom leaving and coming, it was impossible to know if the rumors were true.
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