Abigail closed her eyes and drew in a shaky breath as she saw the coach laying on its side, the poor driver a few meters away from it, he could not have been a day dead yet.

All her things where spilled out on the ground and blowing around in the light wind, her nightdresses looking like ghostly spirits in the blackness, Abigail gave a muffled cry and bent down trying to collect them all together but Rochelle grabbed her arm.

“Those things don’t matter” she said coldly grabbing Abigail’s arm, ignoring the girls pleas that they did, they where hers and shouldn’t be left in the road and pulled her along past the carriage and its dead driver and on-word up the road.

“How close are we to you home know?” she asked, Abigail looked about her trying to remember, she couldn’t have been in the carriage for more than an hour before it was attacked.

“Pretty close” she said confidently “I know we are going the right way”

Rochelle looked up suddenly and sniffed the air, her face twisting “Can you smell that?”

Abigail sniffed the air and shook her head “What smell?”

Rochelle declined to answer her and instead started walking again, increasing her pace to a jog and then all-out running down the road as if wolfs where at her heals, Abigail trying in vain to catch her up.

They reached the drive that lead to Abigail’s home and the young woman noticed in horror that hanging from the gate was the footman, tied to the iron bars his throat torn out.

“Oh dear lord” she whispered hoarsely as Rochelle cut him down.

“Save your prayers, I fear we’re to find much worse” Rochelle said gravely, she took Abigail’s hand and pulled the young woman close to her for protection.

As Rochelle had predicted they did find much worse, the distant red glow Rochelle had dreaded when she first smelt its smoke and felt its warmth carried on the wind was Abigail’s home, or what it had been as it was now a fire towering high and consuming everything.

And outside on the grass was a body, Rochelle could not make out if it was male or female for it had been torn in two and it blood used to write the message now slowly being consumed by the fire.

You have something that belongs to me

Rochelle tightened her hold on Abigail as the white-faced you woman looked at her questioningly.

“What did you take from them?” she asked, voice trembling with the effort of speaking.

“You”