The Stargazer - Chapter 4

As Sparrow nervously entered the horse fair again, there was a commotion.  People had noticed the dead farmer and soldiers were marching around and asking people if they had seen anything.  Sparrow lifted his hood and covered his head with it as he crept by.  He saw a jet black horse standing tied to a post.  It was a handsome Arab and was a gelding, Sparrow saw at a closer look.  The horse was looking at him inquisitively down his nose.  He bent his head down and prodded Sparrow with his muzzle, blowing warm air through his nostrils at Sparrows face.  Sparrow laughed and chuckled “You’d suit Willow down to the ground!”  And so, he untied the horse and vaulted lightly onto his back.  The horse immediately started cantering as if he couldn't’t wait to get out of the fair.  ‘I don’t blame you’ Sparrow thought grimly.1

Willow waited, her heart thundering.  The little filly was standing still now; she had got bored of dancing.  Willow knew by the look in her brother’s eyes that he wanted the new filly, badly.  So she sat on Percy and wondered what steed Sparrow would bring her.  But soon all her thoughts were interrupted as a young man came swaggering up to her, obviously drunk.  “’Ere, you’re a pretty one Missy, ‘ain't you?  I wonder if you’d like to show me what y’got” he grunted as he raised his eyebrows meaningfully.  Willow turned her head away and stared at the ground fearfully.  The man lunged forward and hauled her, struggling out of her saddle.  He dragged Willow to a stable where he held her to the wall, she tried desperately to shout for help but he slapped a hand forcefully over her face.  ‘No!’ she thought “I am not going to be beaten to death by a drunken fool!’ Willow reached for the hilt of her sword and- SMASH!2

A young man crashed through the door. He raised his dagger to the drunk mans chest and cried “Release her or die!”  The drunken man laughed loudly and drew his sword.  He still had his hand over Willows mouth and it became suddenly clammy.  “I said, RELEASE HER OR DIE” the young man shouted again.  He was pale skinned and had hazel eyes with flecks of yellow.  He had obviously been travelling because he had a backpack on and a green-grey cloak, and in need of a good wash.3

“Wat do you say of figh’ing for ‘er?”  Grunted the maniac.4

“I say to hell with you!” came the reply as both willows and the young mans sword plunged into the side of the drunken man.  His eyes widened disbelievingly as he stared at them both, cursing them.  Then he gasped and went limp.  He was dead.5