the blond Hallfolk hair, although none as silvery as hers. She’d felt their curiosity but it wasn’t hostile, and they were full of vitality and exuberance. When she started coming up for lessons she hoped to make some friends. In the meantime she’d collected books from the library to keep herself busy during the long peaceful days spent in the cottage.
The Village boy had started work in their garden and was different to the Hallfolk boys she’d seen in the school wing. She knew he was being punished and that she mustn’t speak to him, but that made her more curious. On the first evening he’d arrived unannounced. They’d heard a noise outside and had seen him by the chopping block near the back door with an axe in his hand. She’d been fascinated by the long, almost black hair hanging in his eyes and the surly look on his hollowed face. There was an air of darkness and secrets about him which Sylvie found intriguing. He hadn’t smiled or looked them in the eye when Miranda opened the door to acknowledge his presence, but muttered something in a rather outlandish Dorset accent. He’d chopped a pile of logs efficiently and stacked them in a little shelter built onto the cottage. Then he’d started digging the garden, continuing until it grew dark. Sylvie had watched him surreptitiously from her bedroom window and felt a little sorry for him. There was something almost tragic about him, as if he carried a deep wound inside.She wondered what he’d done to deserve the punishment.
He came again the next night and started digging straight away. His hands were filthy and Sylvie couldn’t understand how he got so dirty at school. His hair was wild; uncombed and curly and full of bits of twig and dead leaves. When he looked up she saw his eyes and was surprised at how attractive they were – a clear, deep grey and slightly slanted at the corners. He was handsome in a rough, dirty way she decided, and then felt annoyed with herself for even thinking such a thing. She was as bad as her mother.
Yul worked very hard that evening; it started to rain but he carried on. He had no coat, just a thin shirt, old trousers and the strange brown leather boots that Sylvie had seen other Villagers wear. When the rain grew heavier, Miranda opened the window and called out to him to go home if he liked. He didn’t even answer but shook his head, becoming soaked to the bone as the shirt clung to his lean frame. Sylvie hated to see anyone looking so wet and exhausted. She asked Miranda if they could give him something to drink but her mother was anxious not to go against Magus’ wishes.
Magus called in at Woodland Cottage one morning not long after, while Sylvie was out on her morning walk. It was Sunday, the day of leisure at Stonewylde. There was skittles in the pub, games for the children in the Great Barn and archery practice on the Village Green. Boys went up to the warrens armed with catapults and heavy sticks, for rabbits were plentiful and formed a staple part of the Villagers’ diet. On the playing fields by the river youngsters played the Stonewylde versions of hockey and rugby. In the Village School there was country dancing, with many practising the intricate Maypole dance for the next festival, whilst in the Nursery, musicians taught interested youngsters how to play a variety of instruments. Yul, however, turned up at Woodland Cottage.
Earlier he’d noticed Sylvie leave by the front gate heading for the woods. He’d seen her out walking on several occasions,usually around the same time, and found reasons to be there himself. He always remained hidden, perfectly camouflaged in his rough clothes, but he liked to watch her as she wandered along the path. She gazed around and stopped frequently to examine flowers and plants, and often closed her eyes and just stood still, smiling slightly. Yul thought her beautiful, especially now her skin had lost most of its sore patches. Her silky hair was like a waterfall around
The Village boy had started work in their garden and was different to the Hallfolk boys she’d seen in the school wing. She knew he was being punished and that she mustn’t speak to him, but that made her more curious. On the first evening he’d arrived unannounced. They’d heard a noise outside and had seen him by the chopping block near the back door with an axe in his hand. She’d been fascinated by the long, almost black hair hanging in his eyes and the surly look on his hollowed face. There was an air of darkness and secrets about him which Sylvie found intriguing. He hadn’t smiled or looked them in the eye when Miranda opened the door to acknowledge his presence, but muttered something in a rather outlandish Dorset accent. He’d chopped a pile of logs efficiently and stacked them in a little shelter built onto the cottage. Then he’d started digging the garden, continuing until it grew dark. Sylvie had watched him surreptitiously from her bedroom window and felt a little sorry for him. There was something almost tragic about him, as if he carried a deep wound inside.She wondered what he’d done to deserve the punishment.
He came again the next night and started digging straight away. His hands were filthy and Sylvie couldn’t understand how he got so dirty at school. His hair was wild; uncombed and curly and full of bits of twig and dead leaves. When he looked up she saw his eyes and was surprised at how attractive they were – a clear, deep grey and slightly slanted at the corners. He was handsome in a rough, dirty way she decided, and then felt annoyed with herself for even thinking such a thing. She was as bad as her mother.
Yul worked very hard that evening; it started to rain but he carried on. He had no coat, just a thin shirt, old trousers and the strange brown leather boots that Sylvie had seen other Villagers wear. When the rain grew heavier, Miranda opened the window and called out to him to go home if he liked. He didn’t even answer but shook his head, becoming soaked to the bone as the shirt clung to his lean frame. Sylvie hated to see anyone looking so wet and exhausted. She asked Miranda if they could give him something to drink but her mother was anxious not to go against Magus’ wishes.
Magus called in at Woodland Cottage one morning not long after, while Sylvie was out on her morning walk. It was Sunday, the day of leisure at Stonewylde. There was skittles in the pub, games for the children in the Great Barn and archery practice on the Village Green. Boys went up to the warrens armed with catapults and heavy sticks, for rabbits were plentiful and formed a staple part of the Villagers’ diet. On the playing fields by the river youngsters played the Stonewylde versions of hockey and rugby. In the Village School there was country dancing, with many practising the intricate Maypole dance for the next festival, whilst in the Nursery, musicians taught interested youngsters how to play a variety of instruments. Yul, however, turned up at Woodland Cottage.
Earlier he’d noticed Sylvie leave by the front gate heading for the woods. He’d seen her out walking on several occasions,usually around the same time, and found reasons to be there himself. He always remained hidden, perfectly camouflaged in his rough clothes, but he liked to watch her as she wandered along the path. She gazed around and stopped frequently to examine flowers and plants, and often closed her eyes and just stood still, smiling slightly. Yul thought her beautiful, especially now her skin had lost most of its sore patches. Her silky hair was like a waterfall around
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