CHAPTER 1:

"Come on Jim, we can't stay here. I need to look after the chickens."

Laura tried again, but the four-year old collie just would not budge. He liked it here, in the grass-covered meadows of Sommersend. He loved to curl under the shades of the biggest, leafiest oak trees and sleep, and upon waking, lose no moment in chasing the butterflies that often strayed in his path. Now he was ignoring the butterflies and was sunk deep in sleep, the browns and whites of his fur a stark contrast against the deep green of the grass surrounding him.. In the end, Laura gave up and left him to his slumber, thinking she still had a few hours left anyway before needing to go back to the farm.

Laura liked it here too. It was the place she came to rest after working at the farm. She lay on her back, savoring a few more hours of freedom, her weight crushing the flowers and grass beneath her. She simply loved it here. She loved the endless miles of green and petals and earth, the gentle gusts of wind that smelled of oak and pine, the open blue sky littered with clouds, the way the ground shone golden in the rays of the afternoon sun. Bone tired from the endless sowing and ripping and digging she had done all morning well into noon, she felt herself starting to doze, and decided she had better get up. If she was late the chickens would be hungry and pecking at the corn, then her father would be angry. Yawning, she stood up, brushing grass and dirt from her overlarge shirt and breeches held by suspenders, and started to rouse Jim again. He woke up with one of his loudest barks, throwing Laura a reproachful look.

"We have to get back, buddy. Come on," Laura said in a tone that she hoped sounded both apologetic and firm, stroking Jim's brown fur affectionately. She must have succeeded, because Jim stood up, wagged his tail and nuzzled his head against Laura's hand.

"Laura! I didn't know you were there!"

Laura looked up. The voice belonged to her friend, Tom Ewell. Tom was a tall, broad-shouldered boy, with brown sandy hair and hazel eyes. Like Laura, he was in his teens, though he was two years older.

"Jim was longing for his usual bit of rest. It's unnatural. I swear he's getting old." Laura eyed the large knapsack strung over his back. "Isn't that a bit too heavy for you? Need a hand?"

"No, I can manage. It's flour, we're running out." he replied. Tom's parents ran Martel's, the only bakery in town.

"Where's Puck?" Laura asked. Puck was the name of Tom's horse his father had bought for him for his twelfth birthday. Tom usually rode him to town whe  he ran errands for the bakery.

"I left him tied to that tree near the river. He was thirsty."

Together, they started walking. Before long, they reached the river at the end of the meadows. Directly over the river was an old, wooden bridge, which led to the town entrance. Tied to the tree nearest to them was Puck, who neighed loudly at the sight of them. Tom started untying his harness from the tree's gnarles branches, and Laura reached over to pat him.

"Missed me, Puck?" she asked. In reply, Puck neighed softly and closed his eyes lazily against her touch.

"Come on, we'd better get back." Tom was walking back to her, reins in hand. With athletic grace, he made a huge bound and seated himself astride Puck's back. Laura picked Jim. Tom took him the collie from her . Tucking the Jim securely under one arm, he offered a hand. Laura took it and climbed next to him. When he had seen that Laura's seat on the saddle was secure enough, Tom deposited Jim back in her hands. He tugged at the reins and Puck moved, slowly at first, then faster, his pace gradually evolving into full-speed gallops.

"Business doing good then?" Laura indicated the knapsack slung on Tom's back.

"Since Ma figured out how to make blueberry buns. They're real money spinners."

"That's great. Maybe I'll buy some."

"For gluttons like you, they cost double," he said with a wicked smile.

Laura retaliated with an ungentle smack on his shoulder. He laughed, rubbing his shoulder with a good-natured wince.

"Some friend you are. Shouldn't you be giving me a discount?"

He laughed again. "No discounts for gluttons."

Laura started on a snappy retort to silence his teasing, but she never got to it, for she was suddenly distracted by a sudden scream. Jim trembled and gave a nervous bark. Anxiously, she put her hand on Tom's arm. "Did you hear that?"

Tom tugged hard at the reins and Puck galloped to a rest. Another scream rent the air, and he stiffened, glancing around.

"It's coming from over there," he said, pointing to the trees near the river they had just left. "We'd better see what it is. Come Puck," he said commandingly, maneuvering the reins. Puck obediently turned around and moved towards the river. In seconds, they had covered the length of the bridge and reached the woods. Tom climbed down from the saddle and Laura followed. She was a bit scared, and Jim's constantly fearful whining did not help. The screams were more than screams now. They had become words, carried loudly over the air, though deafened slightly by the loud rushing of the water.

"Help! Help me!"

Laura and Tom exchanged a glance, and together, they ran towards the sound. In her haste, Laura accidentally dropped Jim, who tumbled to the ground, whining. He quickly recovered himself and followed, running on his four legs and barking nonstop. As they got nearer towards the sound, they heard a chorus of growls. They moved faster, entering the woods near the river, and saw that the voice they heard belonged to a boy, cowering, crouched behind a tree with a fearful expression on his face, his eyes fixed on three very large wolves inching slowly nearer to him.

Laura looked at Tom. "We need to do something," she said, trying to remain calm.

Tom took from his knapsack a very large and lumpy package wrapped in brown paper and threw it as far as he could. It landed several meters from where they stood. The paper tore, revealing five slices of raw meat. The scent was enough to distract the wolves and they bounded after it, abandoning their human prey behind.

Seeing that the coast was clear, the boy stood up and left his hiding place. Laura was surprised to see that he was taller even than Tom, and was dressed richly, in a red, finely tailored tailcoat with gold embroidery on the hem and sleeves, over which was draped an expensive-looking cape with furs around the neckline. His boots, black, overshined and obviously costly, were the sort that her father's friends wore to formal parties. His tall frame, white blonde hair, young, handsome face, and the tenor of his voice made Laura guess he was roughly her's or Tom's age. He brushed off the soil and bits of twig from his clothes with his hands and glanced at Laura and Tom. The fearful expression on his face had gone, replaced by a defiant, and it seemed to Laura, haughty look.

Tom whistled three times over his shoulder, and in moments they could hear Puck's gallops towards them.

"It's safe now," Laura said soothingly. "They're gone."

The boy did not reply. If anything he looked more sullen. He threw an appraising, almost critical look at Laura's soiled shirt and breeches and gave an obvious snort. Instantly, Laura found herself regretting that she and Tom had ridden back all the way here to save him.

He looked at Tom and spoke. "Do those sounds I hear belong to a horse?" He had a commanding voice, the tone of someone who only cared about getting what he wanted and was used to getting it. He seemed to have an ability to turn even a question into an order.

"Yes, that's Puck. He's bound to be here soon." Tom's reply as polite, but Laura heard the stiffness in his voice.

Who's filthy, stuck-up rich kid are you?, Laura thought to herself. Not the mayor surely. The mayor was famous for having many women without scandalous pregnancies marring his affairs.  And Lord Fenn, the governor of Sommersend, was a widower and childless. No doubt some visiting governor from some distant country she had never heard of.

The gallops grew louder and closer. They could see Puck coming to join them. Tom strode over to where he was and Jim ran after him, greeting Puck with delightful barks, clearly relieved at the disappearance of the wolves. Puck neighed dolefully in reply.

"You had a better come with us," Tom said to boy in a vain attempt to be friendly.

The boy ignored him and walked to where Puck stood. His eyes skimmed the fine black mane, the sleek, tender neck and the sturdy horse's body. He gave a sigh, as though what he was seeing was a dismal failure. Tom bristled, and Laura felt he was now only a few seconds of patience away from punching the boy's face. Then, in a quick gesture, the boy grabbed the reins and hoisted himself over the horse's back. Puck neighed loudly in protest, but like the trained horse he was, he didn't atttempt to throw his rider off.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" Tom demanded angrily.

"Oh, isn't it clear? I'm borrowing your horse. I need to be home early today," the boy replied arrogantly in a casual tone, as though this was the usual way of borrowing somethjng.

"You ungrateful jerk!" Laura cried. "We risked our necks to save you, and instead of thanking us you-"

"Mind your manners, girl!" the boy said sternly. "You will not speak to me like that. And as for saving me, that is your duty."

"Duty my foot! And as for manners, I gather yours are not that good either!" Laura replied, starring into his pale face with sheer anger.

The boy was clearly unused to such defiance. His eyes widened as if slightly shocked, then slowly narrowed in anger, and then his hand moved as if to slap her. Tom put himself in front of Laura, shoving her out of harm's way. Jim, alert and opposed to any sign of harm towards his master, leapt forward with an angry bark, and finding out that he had no hope of reaching the boy, made the most of it by snarling and growling at the enemy from the ground, his fur and tail standing on end.

"You won't touch her, you ungrateful brute!" Tom said furiously,  stretching his arms in an attempt to protect Laura from harm, all signs of politeness gone, dislike etched in every feature of his face.

"Whatever," the boy said in a bored drawl. He looked down at them. "Don't worry. I will return your horse."

"And when do you plan to do that?" Tom demanded angrily.

"When I want to, of course,"said the boy in a tone that suggested his manner was nothing unusual. And with that, he kicked hard, digging his well-shined shoes into Puck's ribs. The horse winced, but the boy tugged the reins and with expert maneuver, turned the horse in the direction of the river, turned his back on Laura and Tom, and rode past them towards the river, disappearing into shadow as the leaves overhead darkened his lanky frame, and was soon out of sight.