It was gray and damp when Eveline opened the door. She sighed and pulled her cloak from a nearby peg. Stepping into her pattens and drawing the cloak over her head she made her way to the barn. Scattering corn for the chickens she called to old Henny the brown cow they’d kept since she was young. With papa off to town it was up to her to care for all the chores.
Tossing some hay down for Henny she set about the milking, being sure to set aside a bowl for Mr. Fuzz, the tom cat who ran the barn. Hoisting the heavy milk bucket she tromped across the muddy ground to the gloomy warmth of their thatch hut.
She set the bucket by the door and set about stoking the fire. Strands of wet hair clung to her cheeks and she absently brushed them aside while laying the pan with freshly cracked eggs over the now crackling fire. A hot breakfast would be lovely on such a damp day.
A few minutes later she was sitting with a cup of fresh milk, cooked eggs and a slab of bread. Her mouth watered at the delicious scent. As she took a bite noises from outside turned her blood to ice.
Horses. Lots of horses. Swallowing she took a deep slow breath. Maybe they would just ride on.
Someone pounded on the door.