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Simon shrugged off his cloak as he entered his small cobble home. Winter had covered his home village in a blanket of white snow, two fold more than the last winter's. The cold was unseasonable and of course the villagers blamed it on the suspicious deaths in the surrounding area. Although death had left Cirencester, the whispers had not.

He reached down to unhitch his longsword when his front door was pushed in, slamming back against the wall. Simon had his sword unsheathed when he saw who it was.

'Annie?'

'Simon come with me. COME NOW!'

She had lost all color in her face and she shivered in her tavern's maids outfit. Picking up his cloak, he put it around her shoulders as she continued to demand he'd go with her. Putting his hands on her shoulders, he gripped them to get her attention.

'What is wrong?'

She half turned but realized with Simon's grip she couldn't, so she turned her head towards the opposite end of town. 'They found a body, in the snow. Simon the...the blood.'

Why she had been out to look was beyond him, but he wagered the entire town had gone out before telling him. Reaching for a blanket, he took his cloak off her and wrapped her in it.

'Stay here.' Annie nodded, shivering even harder now from the shock. Simon took a final look at her as he draped his cloak around his broad shoulders and left.

***

The towns people turned to look at him as he dismounted. The whispers began again, annoying him immediately.

'Why whisper - it's not like I can't hear you,' he muttered out loud so everyone could hear him. Trudging through the snow, it got deeper as he wandered off the road. Gerald, the stable owner, approached Simon and put his hand on his shoulder stopping him for a moment.

'Why did you send Annie?'

'Simon - you don't understand...'

'Understand what? She was as cold as ice when she reached my home, Gerald.'

'The people are talking, Simon.'

Simon shrugged off Gerald's hand, his annoyance rising. 'Who is it?' He started again towards the group of men standing in the field when Gerald answered him.

'We can't tell.'

Simon stopped, snow up to his knees now. He half turned back to Gerald who was standing with his face etched with worried lines. The men further off called to Simon. It was starting to snow again, but from where he was standing he could see the splotches of blood in the snow. His cheeks were starting to burn from the freezing wind when he noticed.

They were holding pitch forks.