Page 41 of The Knucker King

“Avice… please. I am ill. Something happened. Come to my well.”

Her heart hammered at the desperation in Trewoofe’s voice as it echoed into silence. Remembering the priest was still glowering down at her, she turned her attention back to him.

Did he hear that?

Avice studied Peter’s face. He looked angry, brow furrowed and veins prominent in his neck, but no worse than before she heard Trewoofe call through the crystal.

No, he does not have the sight. It is why he cannot hear his voice or that noise.

“We have done what we must,” Peter replied, his scowl shifting to a smirk.

“Then, I will do what I must,” Avice countered, side-stepping the priest, so she could exit the church and answer Trewoofe’s cry for help. I am coming, just hold on.

“We are not done here! Where do you think you are going?” Peter shouted, grabbing her elbow.

“Father, I am leaving!” Avice strained against his grip, his nails digging in through her sleeves. “Ow! You are hurting me, let me go!” She thrashed. “BRAMBLE!”

A vicious snarl ripped through the nave.

Her familiar stood at the open door of the church. His eyes burnt blood red. His lips peeled back to reveal startling white teeth, stark against the black of his pelt.

In a blink, the Grim was by her side, hackles raised.

Let her go! he growled.

Avice threw the priest a scowl. “He says you should let me go.”

Peter’s grip tightened. “What is this witching? You have summoned a hound from Hell itself to protect you!”

RELEASE HER!

Bramble pounced and crunched his jaw around the father’s forearm. The brutal bite loosened his grip on her arm, and Avice yanked it free. She sprinted down the central aisle, heading down to the door, ignoring the screeching commands of the priest.

Avice glanced back over her shoulder to where her familiar still snarled up at the priest. “Come, Bramble!”

The Grim shut his muzzle with a snap and bolted after her. Are we going home?

“Yes, but just to fetch my medical satchel,” she panted as she darted outside.

Who needs you?

Finally free of the church, and that infernal buzzing, she ripped the coif and wimple from her head and tossed them aside. Avice raked her fingers through her scalp, finally able to breathe.

Her gaze met her familiar’s. “Trewoofe.”

Tears stung her eyes at the thought of the Knucker being injured and alone. Had Peter hurt him? What had the priest done? Was he alright? What if it was too late by the time she got there?

16

Chapter 16

Trewoofe

Trewoofe rubbed his bloodied muzzle along the frost to clean himself off. He had hunted, killed, and completely consumed an old stag. The Knucker had felt a twinge of pity for the beast before he slew him; his rib cage had been prominent against his dull pelt, meaning the endless Winter had taken a toll on the creature.

Trewoofe knew he needed to make a second kill today; he had promised Avice a share and planned to bring the Wulver a cut of the meat as well. The Knucker turned his snout skywards, letting the gale barrel a cacophony of scents into his nostrils.

His tongue brushed the air for several moments before he picked out the distinctive scent of a boar. It seemed to Trewoofe like silence had been draped over the forests surrounding his hill.