Donna Fletcher Short Story Collection Read Free

would
prefer that you send him back where he belongs with a stern warning
never to return here.”
    “When I finish with him he will never want to
leave the Other World.”
    Faith drifted into his arms once again. “You
will take someone with you?”
    “I have told you not to worry over me,” he
said as if it were a command.
    “It does you no good to instruct me such for
you know full well I will pay it no heed. I love you and I worry
over you and that is the way it will always be. Now tell me you
will take someone with you.”
    To settle her concern he said, “I’ll take
Rook.”
    The big ugly dog dozing by the hearth raised
his head and yawned.
    Faith shook her head. “He will not go with
you. He hasn’t gone back into the woods since the day it happened.
And you know how he loves to explore on his own at times.”
    Eric shook his head. “Rook was with you and
didn’t attack whatever this thing was?”
    “No, he cowered beside me and shook. I
thought he was upset over my incident.”
    Eric was not happy with the dog’s cowardly
actions. Even though Rook was known to be spineless at times, he
had always protected Faith with his life. What had caused the
animal to fail to protect Faith?
    “This hobgoblin will be no more by day’s
end,” Eric said and gave Faith a quick kiss then walked to the
door.
    “Be careful,’ she called after him.
    “It is the hobgoblin you should be worried
for, not me.” And with that he was out the door striding past ill
villagers who had gathered on the benches once more.
    Eric stopped at the keep to see his son and
inform Borg of his intention and wasn’t surprised that he offered
to accompany him. Borg believed strongly in the Other World whereas
Eric believed in what he could see, and if something could attack
and leave scratches then that something could be caught.
    He declined Borg’s offer though his warning
was clear.
    “Take no chances with a hobgoblin. They are
mean and troublesome.”
    Eric gave his son a hug and a kiss, the
little fellow throwing his tiny arms around his father’s neck and
hugging tight. That he was Eric’s son could not be denied, he was
the exact image of him. He left the two playing with the wooden
animals Borg had carved for Ryan.
    The villagers nodded knowingly as he stomped
his way through the village to the woods, his intentions clear.
Besides, word had already spread that the Irish Devil was going
after the hobgoblin and it seemed that everyone heartily
approved.
    With the skies gray, no sun to penetrate the
thick woods, it was dark. Not as dark as when night settles over
the land but dark enough to make one pause and watch one’s
footings. Eric did both as he made his way around trees and avoided
large fallen branches.
    He never entered battle without a clear plan,
which was why he so often saw victory rather than defeat. This time
however he had a good reason for proceeding without a plan—he’d be
damned if he’d let a hobgoblin keep him from a night of love with
his wife.
    Though now here, he began to think on what to
do next. If his people were avoiding the woods then perhaps the
hobgoblin had grown bored with no diversion and would be looking
for a target to torment. If he simply meandered along not paying
any heed, though keeping aware, the insufferable creature would
show himself and he could be done with this.
    His warrior side warned not to be in a hurry,
to remain ever cautious and watch for shadows that moved too
quickly. And to keep his mind focused and off his wife, though that
wasn’t easy.
    Her scent was on him, on his shirt where she
had rested her head to his chest, on his palm she had softly kissed
and on his forearms, his shirt sleeves rolled up when he had
wrapped his arms around her. It was pungent and sweet and more
enticing than he remembered. And it made him ache for her all the
more.
    He smiled picking up the delicious scent of
honey bread she often made and so generously shared with those who
needed tending.