As he raised his head a shadow swept through the trees. A shadow so fast he barely had time to snap his head back. The raptor caught his shoulder – was it a talon that slashed his neck, or had he stumbled back onto a ragged branch? The strike was as swift as a bodkin-tipped arrow’s flight. The hawk’s screech chilled him. It had already hurtled through the trees out of sight. Was it the witch? Had she been circling above in the form of a hawk? Watching his every movement? Seeing where he plunged into the forest to gain the advantage? Was her witchcraft so powerful that she took on other forms? The supernatural was as real as any man’s belief in God. What proof was there that God existed? What proof was needed that devils and imps roamed the earth and witches took whatever form they needed to snare their victims? Fear of the unknown was more dangerous than facing men determined to kill you. Blackstone spat the sour phlegm from his throat. It was only fear. And fear could be despised and banished from a man’s mind and heart. He pressed on with added determination. If he was to die alone in this harsh wilderness, he would strike down evil. Then he would fall into whomever’s embrace awaited. God or the devil.

A cool trickle of blood from the tear on his neck settled beneath his collar. The hawk’s strike had turned him away from his original route. He was disoriented. He pressed on and then faltered. A shape took form ahead in the forest. It was a broken-down hut, its caved-in roof smothered with moss and leaf mould. Some kind of shelter for wild men of the woods perhaps? Hermits or fugitives? Whoever had lived here was long gone.

He moved closer. The green growth of the forest floor had crept over any structure, including a circular mound in his path. He stepped forward and the ground gave way beneath his weight. He fell waist deep, his back slamming against the hard side of the pit, his shield ripped free. His boots crunched on something brittle. He pulled aside the weeds and growth. It was the remains of a charcoal pit. Layers of leaves would have been packed over a fire and then covered with soil until villagers reduced the burning timber to charcoal.