England, West Coast
Devonshire, Dartmoor
St. George, house of the Jäger family
5 November 1898, 3:48 pm

Clearly, they needed to get to the bottom of these things more deeply and for Kyle, it was important to see the old lady's reaction. He wanted to hear it from her mouth because always two sides had their own truth. What was 'good' and what was 'bad' usually simply depended on one's point of view? And which side you were on?

The old lady leaned back in the chair and rested her hands on her lap. Dr. Archer saw her rubbing her palm with her thumb. Her chest rose and fell slowly as a heavy rock settled on it. Grief and loss of a beloved child or loved one. This pain could numb reason and ignite a devastating fire of revenge. Could this woman be a depraved soul who was responsible for all this? Blinded by her loss and eager for retribution against her son to alleviate that suffering?

"Three years ago, a fire broke out in our old house. It stood on the very spot where that money-grubbing sack Mc Hoon is now having his new house built. My son and his wife died in the flames. Nobody knows how the fire started... maybe it was coal from the stove or an oil lantern. Anna survived the fire but..." she swallows hard. Tears shimmered in her eyes and the lump in her throat made her tone harsher. "All we wanted was our peace. But they made it difficult for us as strangers from the beginning." She continued, bitterness seeping into her voice, "They wouldn't even let us into mass on the anniversary of my son's death to light a candle..."

Kyle felt pity for the old woman but pushed it aside with a firm hand. They absolutely had to find out the truth before there were more victims!

"Could it have been arson?" asked Dr. Archer, as if to play into Kyle's cards.

The old lady contorted her face sorrowfully and cast a hasty glance in the direction of the door behind which the child had disappeared.

"I don't want to believe it." she then replied more quietly. "We live among these people. I don't want to have to think that maybe..." her voice, so resolute in other moments, broke on this stone-like thin glass.

Kyle looked at the old woman, trying to piece together how she might drag the host's body out of the grave. The most bizarre things had a place in his thoughts by now. Hunches or simply confused ideas that had no basis and no proof. Widowers, Undead, Skinchangers, curse or spell, what was it that they simply did not recognize so far? Whatever it was, someone was murdering in this small village. WHY was someone murdering? Why was he choosing these victims? This question was the only one that ran like a thread through everything. And her last and only clue so far was this woman. Was it really revenge?

"Mrs. Jäger. Where were you at noon today?" Kyle asked now in a firmer voice.

The old woman looked at him and her gray brows jerked toward each other.

"I had to slaughter and process two of the lambs. Something seemed to have scared them to death and we couldn't let the meat go to waste. That's why I've been here all day." Lurking, her eyes settled on Kyle. "Why do you ask that?"

The conversation increased in tension and the air became noticeably thicker. Kyle let the heel of his hand rest on the tabletop while he began tapping it with his fingertips. Dull, rhythmic thumping like a clicking metronome.

"Have you heard about the deaths?"

"You mean Father Ewans, poor Marie, and Walter, the landlord?"

"There's one more victim by now. And there were almost two at noon today."

The old woman looked at him and Kyle could see the words seeping like oil into the sand. They flowed sluggishly, far too slowly.

"Sandra Walsh was dragged out of her house by a huge wolf and killed in the woods. And at noon today, someone tried to drown young Victor Graham in a pond," he continued. Suddenly there was a change in the old woman's features. As if a nut had been hit with a hammer and hit just the right spot, she jumped up from her chair and turned white as a sheet all at once.

"Children have been attacked!? And a wolf has come as far as the village?!" she groaned. All at once, she spoke so quickly and so beside herself that the accent in her words became more pronounced and distorted them. "Oh, God. And we're all alone out here. No one will help us if anything happens! No one will even notice!" the old woman paced back and forth as if stung by bees or hounded by an unseen power. Panic suddenly dripped from her every pore, her features seemed aged by many years. Then her thoughts seemed to flip and return to the children." How is little Graham?! And Sandra... oh Mrs. Walsh, the poor woman..." the old woman sat down again, seemingly her legs growing weak and her fingers trembling as she wiped her lips. "What are we going to do... I can't afford a gun... how am I going to protect Anna..." she muttered to herself, seemingly lost in her worries due to the shock of this news.

Kyle and Dr. Archer said nothing for a moment, allowing the woman's thoughts a little time to sort out her feelings, and only then resumed.

"Young Viktor is doing as well as can be expected under the circumstances. He survived but is feverish. We must hope for the best." Dr. Archer was the first to address their questions."Poor boy." Mrs. Jägers's lips curved into a pitying expression as her shoulders slumped. "He was a veritable Satan's roast... Always beating up and teasing the other kids. Even steals things from them." At this, her expression hardened a tiny bit again, but softened again shortly afterward and she shook her head slightly. "But he doesn't deserve that! How could anyone attack a child..." she took a deeper breath and then tapped her lips. She seemed to be thinking and coming to a conclusion that others in the village had not yet come to. "Does this mean someone tried to kill the little boy? What about the other incidents?"

"We can't say for sure yet." Kyle lied without flinching. "That's why we're investigating."

The old woman seemed to understand. Her gaze tightened. "I had nothing to do with it," she said seriously, instantly jutting her chin in a posture that didn't speak of her intending to keep her head down. This woman was out here fighting her way, living as a hermit, and as a German, she had it anything but easy.

"Would you mind if we took a look around?" Kyle sized up the living space with a glance."Who the hell are you?" The old woman was now literally piercing her.

"We're assisting Constable Baltimore with his investigation." Kyle returned just as briefly. In theory, they had no authority to do anything, let alone investigate this house. On the other hand, why would she object if she was innocent?

Unexpectedly, however, the old woman nodded.

"Then take a look around. But please let me know before you start digging into things. And I would ask you not to wake Anna."

This now astonished both men equally.

"Thank you. We will be respectful and of course not wake the child." Dr. Archer steered in before scraping the chair back. The wooden legs slid across the faded floorboards. The old lady remained seated at the table but kept her eyes on the two men.

The seekers' attention first went to the numerous bundles hung up to dry in a corner and the old lady patiently explained each herb from them. She used them for her own little pastes, which is why many in the village called her a witch, as she explained to them. They simply could not afford medicine and so homemade pastes made from plantain and chamomile or other more easily accessible plants had to suffice.

While Dr. Archer remained in the parlor, the old lady finally let Kyle into her room, which was to the right. It was a small chamber, hardly much bigger than her rooms in the inn. Much of the furniture didn't quite want to fit together, some of it looked homemade or very worn. The small bed was neatly made, and a thick woolen blanket warmed the old lady at night. In the old woman's room, he found nothing conspicuous. Kyle didn't quite know whether to be disappointed or relieved.

There were a few books on a small chest of drawers, some in German and some in English, but a glance was enough for him to identify them as a simple reading and not as writings about magic. Kyle was on the lookout for anything else. Characters that might have been carved into windowsills or door frames, he looked under the bed for a hidden compass, hoping for something that might be used for arcane incantations. But he found nothing of the sort. This fact put sour frustration in his stomach. As if he had been sucking a lemon for far too long, he could already feel his mouth going numb and could not manage to spit it out.

Meanwhile, Dr. Archer continued to look around the living room. Since the old lady was standing by the doorframe near Kyle, he could look around more easily. A worn doll was sitting on a chair, obviously wearing a little dress she had sewn herself. It was made of roughly sewn-together scraps of fabric with a few flowers embroidered on it. It was missing an eye, but the little girl didn't seem to dislike it because its hair was carefully braided by small hands.

As he walked past the fireplace, he looked at the few trinkets on the shelf: a thimble and sewing kit, a pincushion, tinder and flint, and a small box of chalk. The smell of stew rose to his nose from the large pot. The lid rattled quietly and the old lady hurried over to put it on at a slight angle. She even offered the two seekers a bowl, which they gratefully declined, just like the tea before. Even if it was rude, Dr. Archer would rather not eat from a suspected witch until they were sure she was innocent. His gaze nevertheless lingered on the hearty stew for a second longer as the click of a door diverted his attention.

"Omama?" whispered a soft voice murmuring from the darkness of the nursery.

Dr. Archer paused in his movement as green eyes appeared at the crack of the doorway. A little girl peered cautiously through the narrow slit. The light of a candle climbed over brown-red curls that had been more poorly tamed into two braids and ended in the embrace of a green and a blue ribbon. Judging by the irregularity, the little girl of perhaps six to eight years had braided those herself. She was barefoot, little toes splayed as she stretched to peek cautiously out of the gap. Dr. Archer caught just a moment's glimpse of the other half of her face.... and his heart grew clammy and heavy. A web of furrowed lines, carved into tender flesh. A web of red and white, shaped by the cruel heat of the fire that had turned this once innocent skin into ugly scars. A few curls fell over the eye, which looked smaller than it should between the scar tissue. The little girl in her white nightgown held a rabbit in her arms. Sewn together from colorful fabrics, it had two wooden beady eyes and long floppy ears that hung over the little child's arm.

"Master Lamp can't sleep.... will you read to us?" the child's voice asked cautiously into the room and all at once the old lady smiled so warmly that it could have lit several fires. "I'll be right there." the old lady promised and turned to the investigators in the same breath. "Unless I can help you in some way, I would now ask you to leave."

Dr. Archer looked at Kyle, who nodded.

"Of course. We don't want to disturb you unnecessarily." The Seeker relented, giving the child a wink. "We wouldn't want anyone to miss their story." Kyle thought he saw a small smile on the girl's lips. He stopped short at the table to pick up his top hat and noticed the children's eyes following them. With a mischievous flicker behind his blue irises, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his silk handkerchief. A pair of suddenly wide-awake eyes were fixed on him; the grandmother, on the other hand, watched him skeptically. Strikingly, he turned the handkerchief and showed the little girl with an exaggerated casualness that there was nothing to be seen on it. Then, abruptly, he drove his face into the cloth with a loud sneeze. He couldn't help grinning as he pulled out a gold sovereign from the handkerchief. Ironically, the coin showed the heroic St. George on his noble steed slaying the dragon.

The child now suddenly squealed and her eyes grew so wide with excitement that for a moment she almost dropped her beloved Master Lamp. A strange name for a rabbit. German, no doubt. Kyle laughed softly and next to him Dr. Archer now couldn't help a cheerful expression. Kyle put the coin on the table and gave the old lady a quick look.

"So that Master Lamp might get a nice new dress. Or a book from which he can learn new things," he said meaningfully. A sovereign was an incredible amount of money for such a poor family. For that, they would surely get something to eat for a month or more, even in a stubborn village. The woman's proud lips twitched briefly, then she took a deep breath.

"Thank you." the old woman said a little hoarsely. As she walked the two men to the door, the child was already running excitedly to the table, turning the gleaming coin in her fingers with wide eyes. As Crowford put on his hat in front of the door and Dr. Archer straightened his coat, quiet words were already coming from inside the hut. The old lady was putting the girl to bed, talking to her in a language neither understood. They could hear the creaking of the cot before the old Mrs. Jäger began to tell a story.

"Once upon a time..."