Winter 1640 – Part 2
One cold night, when the little girl's brother was late returning from a trip to gather firewood, there was a knock on the door of the hut where they lived. A traveler outside asked to be let in. Her father was worried. He gave her a knife and told her to hide behind the bed. He placed his axe next to the door.
She had used the knife before. Sometimes they had a pig or another animal to slaughter. Her father and brother would use a rope to suspend it upside down by its rear legs, so it was helpless. Then, sometimes, they would allow her to use the knife to cut its throat, and use a bowl to catch the blood that escaped. With her right hand she held the knife firmly, and felt courage flow into her from it. With her left hand, she held on to the cross around her neck. She could not see what happened at the door, and could only stay quiet, and listen.
She could hear the door open, and bits of the conversation. Her father was persuaded to allow the stranger to come in. Almost as soon as he did so, she heard her father call out and fall to the floor. Her head shot above the bed and she saw a slightly built man, dressed in rags, lying on top of her father, pinning him down. She leaped over the bed and onto the man, screaming as she did so, and stabbing the man in his lower back. She felt the knife sink into his flesh. The man screamed in rage and swung around, flinging her across the hut. The knife slipped from her grasp and was lost. She saw that the man was no man. A demons face glared out at her through red eyes. The demon snarled at her like a wolf. Her father was struggling to his feet behind him, blood spurting from his neck, reaching for the axe. Suddenly the demon whirled round, and threw him back to the floor. "Saint Wolfgang, help!" she cried, trying to find her knife. The demon turned again, springing across the hut and bringing her down. She was on her back, face to face with the demon. It snarled and bit into her. "Saint Michael, save me!" she screamed and with all her strength thrust her cross into the demons right eye. It screamed and she saw and smelt the smoke from its burning face. The demon backed away to see her father back on his feet and jumping towards them with his axe. It snarled, turned, and ran out through the door into the night.
They stared at each other, each bewildered by what had happened. They dressed each others wounds, waited for her brother to return, and hoped he would not encounter the demon. Her father hugged her. She kissed him on his neck. By the time her brother returned, she had noticed the shape of a cross, burned into her left hand. It was starting to sting.