Ash lay on his back with his eye lids shut whilst he tried to settle the outbursts of anger that rushed through him. Even when he thought of the shady man known as ‘Lord Hann of Picker’ his emotions would take over his body. Anger, hatred….and fear, all ran through him as he lay still. Yes he hated the man, but he wouldn’t ever act upon it. Lord Hann was far too ruthless. It was only a few days before that he had taken a longsword from the town’s smith, only to find that the blade was blunt. Ash felt a sadness overwhelm him as mental images of the sword smiths bloodied hands flashed through his head. He saw the man’s little girl, seven years of age, screaming whilst tears dropped from her eyes. Lord Hann had decided to punish the poor man in public too, lowering his dignity even further. Ash wondered if what the Lord had done broke any of the king’s laws, not that it mattered.
The sun started to shift slowly away behind the hills in the distance, allowing the cold to wind its way around Ash. He rose from the floor onto his feet, rubbing his boots into the damp soil below him. Ash began to brush himself down, in an effort to remove all the dirt that had stuck to his overcoat. He moved onto his trousers, once again attempting to remove the dirt to no avail. After two more attempts he gave in and reached down for his sack. Opening the sack he peered inside, only to be met by a fresh but repulsive odour. Ash creased his face together. Chuckling to himself he pulled out a rope from under his belt and looped it around the sack, carefully knotting it tightly. He swung the sack over his broad shoulders and tied the end of the rope to the front of his belt. This enabled the sack to dangle behind him, giving him the ability to use both hands as he made his way out of the clearing and back through the forest towards the centre of town.