Thomas’s troops were not the only people out in the forest that day. Elsewhere in the forest, a man by the name of James Jacobs was out with his eldest son Peter hunting for deer to take home for dinner. James was not a hunter by trade although he did spend his days in amongst the trees chopping them down to clear pathways or to sell for firewood, his hunting trips occured a few times a month to supplement the family for what could not be bought at the market. Peter was often at his father's side on trips out - to the market, to hunt or to work. He enjoyed being out in the wilderness of the forest and working with his hands. He would often ask James to bring back spare logs or thick branches that he had cut down during the day so that he could play about shaping the logs into something else, like and animal or person. Quite often the route they would take through the forest would lead them past a pretty little cottage owned by a nice but quiet lady and her solemn daughter. James had always found it perculiar that they were on their own, there was no husband at the lady's side, no older boy to help look after the family. He rarely poke to them and never heard the lady or her child say anything beyond "hello" or "good day". James was a kind hearted man and even though he rarely spoke to this small family of two, he would always make sure to leave some of the fresh meat on the doorstep whenever they passed by on a hunting trip.
Today on their route to the nearby hunting grounds, there was an unusual stillness in the forest. The animals were silent and the wind was still. As James and Peter drew closer to the cottage, the atmosphere changed, becoming more eerie. On the trail past the cottage James noticed tracks, far more than there should have been in this part of the forest. Concerned, James halted and crouched down for closer look at the tracks. Both hoof prints and footprints blended together on the dusty trail, with the footprints overpowering those of the animal. On closer examination, the footprints seemed to head in the direction of the cottage whilst the hoof prints appeared to be going in the opposite direction. Signalling for Peter to come closer, James pointed to the different marks on the ground before speaking in a hushed voice worried that there may still be someone around keeping watch in the area.
"Take a good look here son, there could be trouble around.” James cautioned Peter before slowly standing up and moving carefully so as to not disturb the ground. Together, James and Peter slowly continued down the trail discovering more tracks and evidence of destruction. Upon reaching the cottage, Peter stopped and grabbed his father’s arm.
“Father, look.” Peter pointed towards the cottage and its broken entrance. “Bandits?” He asked, uncertainty lacing his young voice.
“I don’t know son. Keep a sharp eye, whoever did this could come back.” James replied. Slowly they made their way up to the cottage and the devastation that lay inside. Using the end of a stick, James nudged the door to one side. After giving his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness in the room, he stepped inside.
“Stay here Peter.” He ordered and began to search the cottage. The inside of the cottage looked smaller from the inside. There was three rooms on the ground level, a small room with a make-shift bed, a sitting area with a large fireplace which now held marks of violence, and around the back of the building was the kitchen area. Moving through the cramped passageway, James paused to look inside the sitting area and was appalled at the damage caused in this virtually empty room: chunks had been broken off the slate shelf, and the whold room was covered in soot from the fireplace where the cold ashes from earlier fires had been kicked around ruining the rug that lay infront of the fireplace. Keeping an ear out for any noises, it was eerie to hear silence, there no whisper of sound to indicate any one was within the building. Glancing through the doorway into the kitchen area, James shook his head in sadness at the damage in the room. The table and chairs lay broken on the floor, the bowls and plates were in pieces, and the whole building was in a state of disarray. ‘Who could do this?’ James thought to himself. ‘This is not the work of bandits.’
Turning away, James began to make his way to the small staircase to check the upstairs of the cottage. Luckily enough there was only one room upstairs so it did not take him too long to examine the room for any signs of life. Picking up several items off the floor, James looked at them closely enough to realise they were charred pieces of parchment. It seemed to him that the lady was hiding from something or someone, and judging from these burnt papers, she was trying to write to someone probably to ask for help or say where she and the little girl were.
“Father!” Peter called from around the house where the back door lay in ruins, jolting James back into focus
“Peter? What is it?” James called as he hurried back downstairs towards the back of the building where Peter stood just outside of the cottage staring into the kitchen
“There’s someone here still father. I can’t see if she’s breathing.” Peter pointed towards a dark corner of the room where there lay a large broken barrel. Giving Peter a slightly puzzled look, James carefully moved over to the corner moved a large broken section of the barrel out of the way, revealing the little girl partially inside it. “I wonder where her mama is.” Peter murmured, his voice seeming to come out louder than intended.
“Help me get to her, we need to see if she is alright.” James directed Peter to the other side of the barrel and together they freed the girl. Gently turning her over, they saw a large gash on her forehead with dried blood thick on one side of her face. Concerned that she was not breathing James placed one palm on her chest and held another above her mouth and nose. “She’s alive, thank goodness. But we need to get her home and away from this.” James passed his hunting bow to Peter and proceeded to lift the girl from the wreckage. Just outside the building, James lay the girl down and said to Peter “go back inside and find blankets and anything that may have belonged to this girl. She’s coming home with us.”
After Peter disappeared into the house, James examined the girl properly. Unfurling her hands to check for any injuries, he was slightly surprised when a piece of parchment dropped from her grasp. Reaching forward, he began to read and as he read the short letter, he understood a few simple facts: this child needed protection and anonymity. But where had the lady, this child’s mother gone? Soon enough, Peter emerged from the house and James pushed the letter into his pocket. Once more he picked up the girl and the three of the retreated back into the forest towards home.
As they neared the house, James sent Peter on ahead to warn his mother that they were coming and needed some assistance with the child. Hannah, James’ wife met the them at the door, and upon seeing the girl lying limp in her husbands arms, gave him a questioning look.
“We found her in the old Hunters cottage, no sign of her mother.” James explained in a grim voice. “The place was smashed up.”
“Bandits?” Hannah gasped, appalled to think of them so close to home. James shook his head.
“I doubt it. It didn’t look like anything had been taken, the rooms were turned over as if they were looking for something,” he paused. “Peter take those things and put them in the spare room.” Indicating for Hannah to move closer, James lowered his voice. “I believe thy were looking for her or at least her mother. Looks like the lady escaped.”
“Leaving the girl behind? How could she do that!” Hannah exclaimed. James reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter.
“Maybe this will explain it to you.” He handed her the letter. Hannah skimmed through it quickly, reading out loud without realising it.
"To whomever finds this note,
Please help my child. Keep her hidden from the world, protect her in any way you can - do not let anyone take her away. She is the future of this Kingdom and deserves a life free from being chased by the enemies of my brother. I beg you, keep my Katrina safe. There may come a time when others come looking for her. Trust no one with her care.
I will be with Katrina again but until then, look after her like she is your own.
Princess Sarah Hunter, Lady of Earendel"
Hannah's eyes widened at what she was reading. Upon reading the last words she looked up at her husband and spoke in a shocked whisper:
“Princess Katrina?!?” James nodded. “How could we not know? I mean, how did we not realise…” She trailed off, her gaze drifted over the unconscious child. “We’ll raise her,” Hannah decided. “We’ll keep her and raise her as our own. No-one needs to know her background, just that she’s ours.”
“What shall we call her? We can’t call her Katrina else everyone will know who she is.”
“Kate, after my grandmother. It’s a good strong name and I’m sure she will like it. It's close enough to her real name that it should be easy for her to remember.” James gave Hannah a thoughtful look as he caught on to her train of thought.
“The kids shouldn’t have a problem, she’s the same age as the twins if I recall correctly. Maybe a year or two younger. I'm sure they would love to have another sister.” Hannah nodded at this and began bustling about the living room.
“Take her to the spare room James, she needs her rest and I'm sure she would do better waking on her own without us hovering around. I'll be along in a moment to clean that blood off her face. Oh the poor dear, I hope it doesn't pain her too much.”
At that request from his wife, James carried Katrina towards the back of the house and placed her on the spare bed. Looking at the items Peter had brought in from her former home, James reached for one of the blankets and covered her with it. Quietly he left the room and pulled the door closed behind him. The only one that would be going into that room would be Hannah to make her more comfortable. Hopefully Katrina would be able to recover quickly and accept what was most likely one of the biggest changes in her short life.