There were dark, rolling clouds overhead, and in the air the heavy, oppressive sense of thunder. A south westerly wind gusted against the villagers faces bringing with it turbulent waves of withered leaves. Henriques’ men galloped into the forest. The sound of hooves against the rough ground imitated a palpitating heart. The villagers marched in line with Henriques’ horse as if in a military parade but smaller in numbers. The horses came to an abrupt halt. “Show yourselves!” Henriques exclaimed threateningly. Nobody responded. The atmosphere was tense. The villagers look to one another, each showing the same apprehensive face. All that was heard was the horses snorting heavily. There they came, from every direction. They were in great numbers, effortlessly outnumbering Henriques’ men. They did not come slowly; within a second they had ran the distance of 100m or less and the rage in their eyes could be seen evidently as if through a glass of water. “Now!” Henriques shouted. The villagers sang jubilantly seeing the hostages hesitate and vacillate. The ground started to stop shaking as their numbers abated, but nevertheless the ground was vibrating slowly as still a whole division of them were charging. The antagonism in their blood increased every second. The singing grew louder and louder and as each hostage fell clumsily onto the ground, smiles became laughter’s of joy on the singer’s faces. Henriques knew the moment would come, and as he patted his horse he also looked at Jack and could see tears welling up in his eyes. “Open your hand” uttered Henriques. Jack opened his hand and with that Henriques placed the gift onto his hand and told him not to open it. “What is it?” jack asked thoughtfully
“It was a gift from my mother, she told me not to open it until she dies but I haven’t done that so you can do it sometime” he told Jack. “I will do” Jack replied.
Henriques cried as he kicked his horse into action. He rode off into what seemed to be a terrain...
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