Black Feathers Read Free

circuits of her breath. She dare not even cry in case it saps her strength.
    Her foot catches a fallen cornstalk. She takes long ungainly steps in an attempt to right herself and slides face first into the dirt. She’s running again before she feels the pain of the soil-hidden flints which have pierced her palms and knees. Moments later the cuts make their presence known. The pain tightens her skin, slows her down.
    She spits earth from her mouth and wills more speed to her legs.
    The girl bursts from the cornfield, taking a few stalks with her into the meadow. The uprooted greenery falls away. Horses, cattle and sheep look up as she passes, before continuing to graze unconcerned. She’s running uphill now, her thighs beginning to burn. At the top of the meadow there’s a gate. She’s already certain there won’t be enough time to stop and open it. Not knowing exactly how, she vaults the gate, ecstatic to leave a barrier between her and it. Him .
    She’s in the village now, scattering chickens as she pounds down the main street. Faces look up and watch her pass. Someone shouts:
    “Hey, Megan! You alright?”
    But she’s already left them behind.
    And then she’s at her parents’ front door and through it and bolting it and leaning back against it. Panting, sagging to the floor. Crying.
    Her mother wipes her floury hands on her apron and rushes to her daughter.
    “Megan? Whatever’s the matter?”
    Sobs and gulps for breath have muted her. Megan’s mother eases the girl to her feet and guides her to a chair. She ladles water from a stone ewer and hands it to the girl in an earthenware cup.
    “Calm yourself down, Megan. I’m going to fetch your father.”
    Megan gasps and shakes her head.
    “No, Amu… don’t leave me.”
    “I’m not going anywhere, Meg. I’ll ring the bell for him.”
    Megan’s mother pushes open the kitchen window and uses a poker from the fireplace to whack a rusted metal tube hanging just outside. It releases a resonant, melodious clang. Three short peals, the sign to come home quick. And soon enough, Megan’s father is entering through the back, also panting, his face creased with concern.
    “What’s happened?”
    “I don’t know yet. She’s barely got her wind back. Came in here like Black Jack himself was after her.”
    At that, the girl looks up and weeps anew.
    Her father, a bear of a man with kind eyes and a gentle smile that even a chest-length beard can’t hide, comes to sit with his daughter at the table.
    “It’s all right now, petal. You’re safe.” He puts his huge hand over hers and squeezes gently. “Tell me all about it.”
    “I saw something… some one … in the woods.”
    “Who did you see?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “What did they look like?” he asks.
    She looks at her mother again and puts her hand over her mouth.
    “Come on, Megan. If it’s someone dangerous we need to send people after them as soon as we can.”
    “Black.”
    That’s all she says at first.
    “What?”
    “Black. All in black from head to toe.”
    Her mother and father exchange a brief glance.
    “What else?”
    “He…”
    “It was a man?”
    Megan nods and her blond hair shakes with the vigorousness of the movement. Her father’s frown deepens.
    “He had a hat. A tall hat. It was flat on top – like a chimney. And his clothes were all black. A long black coat that poked out at the back. And black trousers and big, fluffy black boots.”
    “Fluffy?”
    She nods again.
    “Like… feathers or something. Black feathers. They came out of his sleeves and his collar too.”
    “And what about his face, Megan,” asks her mother now. “Did you see his face?”
    The girl nods. More slowly this time.
    “It was like a bird’s face. Pointy. And his eyes were grey. Like storm clouds.”
    Again, her mother and father look at each other. The father nods.
    “You mustn’t be frightened, petal. I’m going to fetch Mr Keeper.”
    “Mr Keeper? Why? I’m not sick, Apa.”
    “Mr