The Crowfield Curse Read Free Page A

gloom, guarding the wood. Fear twisted in the pit of William’s stomach. The atmosphere around him had changed subtly. He felt as if something was watching him with baleful, hostile eyes.
    William couldn’t turn back now. The trap seemed to carry with it the spirits of the creatures that had died in its grip. William was determined that it would never harm another animal. It would lie in the water at the bottom of the Hollow and rust away to nothing.
    A breeze swayed through the undergrowth. “There will be other traps, other deaths,” it seemed to whisper.
    William’s heart leaped in fear and he stared around, wide-eyed and terrified. There was nobody there. He could not be sure if he had really heard the words, or if they had been inside his head. In spite of that, the feeling of being watched grew stronger by the moment. It took every shred of courage he could muster to force himself to start walking forward again.
    Why didn’t I just take the trap back to the abbey? he thought. What made me think coming here was a good idea?
    On the far side of the yew, the ground sloped downhill. The scrub thinned, and he could see a shallow, marshy pool of water at the bottom of the slope. This was the Hollow. He knew it; he could feel it.
    It was noticeably colder now. William’s breath clouded on the still air. Frost silvered the reeds around the pool and the water’s edge was frozen over with a crust of blue-white ice, leaving just a circle of dark water in the middle.
    Hesitantly, William made his way toward the pool. His hands were clammy, making it awkward to keep hold of the trap. He could feel sweat trickle between his shoulder blades. His heart seemed to be trying to beat its way out of his chest, making it difficult to breathe. Doing the right thing is not always the easy choice , he thought grimly.
    An old hazel tree grew on the edge of the pool and spread its branches out over the water. There were several moss-covered stones beneath its twisted roots. Water trickled between them.
    What magic stopped the spring from freezing over in the middle of November, when the rest of the land was held tightly in winter’s bleak grip?
    The center of the pool was a black mirror that reflected an upside-down world. The water might have been knee-deep, or it might have been bottom-less; there was no way of knowing. But William had the oddest feeling that if he fell into the water, he would find himself sinking down into that shadowy otherworld.
    He did not like this place, not one little bit. It did not want him here, either. He was an intruder, an outsider. If he stayed much longer, it would make him wish he hadn’t.
    With a huge effort, William threw the trap as hard as he could, out over the ice, toward the dark heart of the pool. There was a loud splash as it hit the water and sank beneath the surface.
    He stepped back from the edge and watched the ripples die away. The water became still again. A movement of cold air touched his cheek and he turned quickly, grabbing a branch of the hazel tree to stop himself from falling backward onto the icy margin of the pool. For a heart-stopping moment, he had the feeling that someone was standing close by. He could not see anything but he felt a presence so strongly he could almost touch it.
    â€œThis will not be forgotten.” The whispered words had no more substance than a breath of wind through branches.
    William went hot and cold with terror. Forcing his shaking legs to move, he turned and ran.

C HAPTER
THREE
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    W illiam left the bundle of firewood in the woodshed near the barn. He could hear Brother Martin, the abbey cook, clattering about and swearing in the cellarium next to the kitchen, and he quickened his step. If the monk caught sight of him, he would be trapped in the kitchen for the rest of the morning, cutting up vegetables for dinner, and he would not get a chance to ask Brother Snail to help the hob.
    William hurried out