In the Blood
an excerpt

Suddenly there was a knock on the door, and she nearly jumped out of her skin, it scared her so. With her hand on her heart in an attempt to slow it’s pace, Isobel opened the door again.
The young man stood there, with his hat in his hands, now devoid of torch. She could see from the light streaming from her doorway that he wasn’t much older than she was. He had pale hair and dark eyes. His skin was burned brown, and she could tell by the fall of his cloak that he had broad muscular shoulders. It was easy to tell by looking at him that he made his living working hard outdoors, under the sun.
Looking contrite, the man said, “ma’am if I could just impose on you for one more thing?”
“Of course,” Isobel said, feeling kindly towards him, “what can I do for you?”
Suddenly a large hand shot out of the darkness and wrapped around her wrist in a vice like grip.
“You can come with us,” the gravely voice said, as it pulled her out of the cottage.
For a heartbeat Isobel was too stunned to react. Then her arms were being pulled behind her and bound and she was being dragged away from her house.
She screamed, “WILLIAM!” at the top of her lungs, as she struggled against the men, her feet dragging on the ground as they carried her away.
All of a sudden, William was framed in the doorway of their cottage, looking anxiously into the dark. He was wearing his nightgown and his feet were bare. One look, however, of his wife retreating into the darkness and he plunged out side, oblivious to the bite of frost on his feet, and the chill of air on his bare skin under the gown.
He ran as fast as he could, and reaching Isobel and the two men, each carrying Isobel by an arm, he grabbed the smaller of the two and hauled him around, punching him hard in the face and knocking him to the ground where he groaned before attempting to rise to his feet.
William then rounded on the larger man, who pushed Isobel away from him in order to have both of his hands to fight. Isobel, not having her arms to balance, stumbled and fell hard on her side, and the breath was blown out of her. She sat in the dark, gasping air into her lungs painfully and watched as William and the larger man circled each other warily. They weaved and jabbed their fists at each other, each hitting the other with satisfying thuds, but not doing enough damage to get the upper hand. Finally, William’s fist drove hard into he man’s stomach, forcing him to bend over as the air whooshed out of his lungs. Then William’s fist drove hard into the man’s head, making a cracking sound, and the man’s head snapped back and he fell to the ground where he lay silently, beside the other man who had only managed to rise to his knees.
William rushed over to Isobel and gently brought her to her feet, instantly concerned about the baby.
“Are you okay?” he asked, brushing leaves from her hair and dirt from her cheek while he began to lead her back to the safety of their cottage.
Suddenly there was a large cracking sound, and her husband fell to his knees, grabbing his head, before he collapsed in the dirt on his face.
Isobel screamed and went to rush to his side, when she saw an unfamiliar man. He stood behind William with a wooden plank in his hands. Before she could react, he grabbed her by the arm and began to drag her away again. That was when Isobel noticed that she was surrounded by shadows in the darkness. There was more than just three men come to get her, there was an entire crowd. They had hidden their numbers in the dark, apparently, and sent the two ahead to lure her out.
When Isobel realized how hopeless her situation was, she began to cry, occasionally whimpering and sniffing as her nose began to run from her tears and the cold. All she could think about was how her mother looked the last time she talked with her; locked in the cell, wasted and filthy, trying to put on a brave front for her family. Was she going to be reduced to that? Were they going to kill her? What about her baby? The baby was an innocent!
Her dour thoughts were making her sob. The tears streamed down her cheeks, feeling like ice in the cold. Suddenly her knees were week and she couldn’t support herself. In slow motion she felt herself collapse, crashing down onto her face, and half pulling the man down with her.
Swearing, he hauled her to her feet again and slapped her across the face. Her head snapped back, and her cheek stung, but it didn’t hurt as much as it would have if she hadn’t been so cold. As it was, the rising heat in her face was almost pleasant. He growled a warning at her to behave herself before starting out again at a quicker pace to catch up with the rest of the crowd.
No one spoke as they walked. The only sounds around them were the crackling of the torches and crackling of dry grass and pad of many feet on the cold ground. A cold wind was beginning to blow, numbing her ears and giving her a slight ear ache, and occasionally she could hear the rustle of leaves from trees somewhere, invisible in the darkness.
She looked up at where the moon should be, only to find it was obscured behind a think bank of clouds. The weather was changing again. Maybe there’d be snow. How appropriate, it snowed the night before her mother died.