The air in Broughton hung heavy with secrecy as Martin, Smith, Sigerten, Hunt, and White quietly trailed the woodcutter to his modest hut. They crouched near the window, their curiosity driving them to eavesdrop on the impending conversation within.
The woodcutter, a sturdy man with calloused hands, slipped into the dimly lit hut where his wife anxiously awaited his return. The friends huddled together, their ears straining to catch the murmurings of the couple within.
"I swear if we get to listen to their personal conversation, I am out of here, Martin." Smith cleared.
He was uncomfortable with eavesdropping on someone's personal conversation, but he also couldn't deny his friend.
"Sure, now shut up and listen." Martin had no idea why he was suspicious of the woodcutter, Frank.
He barely knew the introverted man. But his gut feeling told him that something was not right there.
