Hours later, Charlotte blinked her fuzzy eyes, trying to make out anything in the darkness of the hut. She'd drifted off while waiting for Sidney to return with news. The candles must have gone out while she dozed. The thudding that had woken her continued. A determined thudding. The door!
She scrambled up from the bed and stumbled across the room in the dark, banging her knees on the bedposts and dressers as she made her way to the front door of the hut. It must be Sidney, back with news. She pulled a shawl from a hook near the door and quickly wrapped it about herself before pulling the door open. In the light of the moon, she made out the silhouette of a man on her porch.
"Sidney?"
The only reply she got was a grim bark of a laugh. That wasn't Sidney. Maybe he'd sent someone else to give her an update.
"Is everyone okay? Is the fire out?"
She squinted in the darkness, trying to make out the face of the man before her. In a sudden movement, the man stepped forward and wrapped a rough hand around her throat, pushing her up against the door. At first, a wave of panic surged through her veins, paralyzing her in place against the door.
Then Captain Blyth's words came floating back to her. "Strike wi' yer palm … Then run fur yer life." In a fluid movement, she did just that, managing to escape the hold and take off running into the dark hut. She could escape through a back window. She could barricade herself in the bedroom. She could-
Her racing mind and body came to an abrupt halt as a dull thud echoed through her skull and consciousness stole from her body …