Door Handle.
The girl is already too far ahead to catch up with, even using shortcuts. Besides, your master will want you back with the proceeds of your sales.
You turn up the collar of your jacket and fasten the buttons up to the neck. Pulling your cap as far down over your ears as you can, you tuck the object away in your pouch, pick up the barrow and begin the long and wet journey home.
With the heavy clouds darkness will fall quicker tonight and with no lantern to light the way, you set a quick pace towards your village, to beat nightfall. The rain begins to ease as you leave the city boundary, but the wind chills through your wet clothes.
"Halt!"
A figure leaps from behind a tree and stands in front of you. You stop.
"Dont move or I'll blow yer brains out." His nose and mouth are covered by a blue kerchief; dark matted hair straggles into his eyes from under his tricorne. Footsteps close in from behind and you know you are surrounded. This isn't good.
Light from behind you illuminates his figure and you see your own shadow stretching out on the ground in front of you. His accomplice appears at your shoulder, a lantern in his hand. His eyes glisten in the flickering light. "Barrow boy, eh?" With his free hand he flings the blanket onto the ground. He picks up an apple, and crunches at it, its foaming juice dribbling onto his stubbly chin. His features contort and he spits it out. He moves closer, his eyes fixed firmly on your money pouch. "What else have ye then?"
"Nothing, Sir," you say.
He glances to the highwayman who nods his head.
"Hand me yer pocket," he says.
You turn up the collar of your jacket and fasten the buttons up to the neck. Pulling your cap as far down over your ears as you can, you tuck the object away in your pouch, pick up the barrow and begin the long and wet journey home.
With the heavy clouds darkness will fall quicker tonight and with no lantern to light the way, you set a quick pace towards your village, to beat nightfall. The rain begins to ease as you leave the city boundary, but the wind chills through your wet clothes.
"Halt!"
A figure leaps from behind a tree and stands in front of you. You stop.
"Dont move or I'll blow yer brains out." His nose and mouth are covered by a blue kerchief; dark matted hair straggles into his eyes from under his tricorne. Footsteps close in from behind and you know you are surrounded. This isn't good.
Light from behind you illuminates his figure and you see your own shadow stretching out on the ground in front of you. His accomplice appears at your shoulder, a lantern in his hand. His eyes glisten in the flickering light. "Barrow boy, eh?" With his free hand he flings the blanket onto the ground. He picks up an apple, and crunches at it, its foaming juice dribbling onto his stubbly chin. His features contort and he spits it out. He moves closer, his eyes fixed firmly on your money pouch. "What else have ye then?"
"Nothing, Sir," you say.
He glances to the highwayman who nods his head.
"Hand me yer pocket," he says.