He was big, he was brave and he was armed with a hefty stick. Abel was not the sort of man to flinch from a fight. Not that he would ever seek one out but he knew he could hold his own if attacked. Even though the hedgerows hid a passel full of robbers in these lawless times it was always Abel who volunteered to go to market on his own so that his brothers could get on with their work. There was so much to be done in these early November days before the ground became too hard too work and the days too short.
This market day he’d set off well before dawn as usual and was well on his way when the mist gradually got thicker and thicker. Abel consoled himself that at least in this weather the thieves and cutpurses would be unlikely to be about. They’d lie abed until middle day before wandering into town to seek their pickings.
So, with naught to fear, he tramped along the muddy lane until a strange noise brought him up dead. An eerie, screeching sound... The mist made it impossible to see the source of the terrible noise. It seemed to come from all directions. It pierced the ears like needles and sent shivers from his toes to his neck. His hair stood on end. Big, brave Abel ran....
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