A Company of Heroes Book One: The Stonecutter Read Online Free PDF Page B

hole in the window’s gauze-like curtain, hits her squarely in the left eye. She shields that eye from the glare and can then see the mountainous silhouette of her rescuer bulking opposite. Rescuer and protector , she thinks, suddenly remembering the events of the previous night. That immediately leads to a recollection of the events that has preceded those , and she shudders. Nevertheless, she has escaped with her life, has found a haven safe and warm, and now has some real hope of carrying through with her plans.
    She listens to the low rumbling of Thud’s breathing, like that of a dreaming tiger. With the help of a man like him, I can do it. But how to go about recruiting someone who seems so content? His power appears to be limitless but so does his inertia; he is more like an ox than a bull: placid and imperturbable. Then why did he risk his life to rescue me? He did it as though there had been nothing unusual about it at all; not once did he show any particular emotion, other than concern for my safety.
    Would he do it again?
    Her eyes metaphorically roamed the room. It looked far worse in the light of morning. Her first thought is of her precious satchel. She discovers it lying next to her, against the wall. It appears to have been left scrupulously untouched, but who can tell about such things? She feels a little guilty unbuckling the straps that hold the flap closed. Beneath is a seam, tightly laced shut. Unthreading this, and opening the mouth of the bag, she pulls out one of the bundles it contained. It is tightly wrapped in oilcloth and tied with waxed string. Her wax seal over the knot seems intact. Leaving the others uninspected, she replaces it and recloses the bag. She continues her visual tour of the room. Her gaze stops at the tintype surrounded by its paper flowers. It’s like an altar! She then recalls Thud’s one admission the night before when she realized that there might be more motivating the big man than mere whim: he hated the Guards.
    Bronwyn wriggles out of the cocoon in which she had been wrapped. The wood stove has long since gone out, but the early morning sun baking the slates of the roof has warmed the little room beneath. She stretches like a cat, up on the balls of her feet, her hands nearly reaching the ceiling, arching her back until her joints and seams crack, one after the other. She then looks around the room to see if she can find something to wear. She notices that the tin tub and the buckets are gone as are her old, torn clothing of the day before.
    Padding softly on bare feet, she searches the room’s several corners until she finds a pile of rough cloth. This turns out, when she holds it up, to be one of Thud’s tunics. It looks like a tent. She slips it over her head and it promptly falls to the floor around her feet. Barely suppressing a laugh, she goes back to her bed and finds a blanket that is about five feet square. It is riddled with moth holes. Feeling only a little guilty about destroying a possession of someone who has so few, she works her fingers into a hole near the middle of the blanket and carefully begins tearing the cloth. In only a minute or two, she has enlarged the hole enough so that she can pass her head through it. Wrapping a cord around her waist, she succeeds in creating a kind of poncho.
    Now what? Do I dare try waking the sleeping giant? Why not?
    She touches his arm and says softly, “Mr. Mollockle?”
    His bright little eyes open immediately and he says, “Good morning. How are you?”
    “I’m fine.”
    From where he is sitting, Thud reaches for the oil stove and begins pumping its lever to build up the pressure needed to light it.
    “Would you like some breakfast?”
    “Yes!”
    Amazing! The man came awake instantly; there had been no transition between sleep and wakefulness where it had taken me several minutes to work the sleep out of my eyes and the kinks from my bones. Oh, Musrum,if only I can get this man to help me!
    In just a few