Carissa might be only fifteen, but she had seen enough of war and English atrocities to have her mind immediately fill with ghastly images. But she pushed them forcefully away. Don't think about it. The screams means she is still alive. That is all that matters.
It was all Carissa focused on as she crept toward the cottage at any moment expecting men to burst forth and capture her Her heart had stopped beating and she seemed to barely be breathing as she circIed around back .
'No please !'' The terrified,pleading of her mother stopped Carissa cold. ' please don't hurt my baby.''
Carissa bit her lip to prevent the sob that gurgled up the back of her throat from escaping. Her mother was more than eight months pregnant with her dear stepfather's child. Her second child,which she'd had to wait over fifteen years to conceive. Between carissa and her mother, it was hard to tell who was more excited about the new baby . A brother or a sister,Carissa didn't care. She finally would have a sibling.
Please don't hurt them.
Crawling over the fence that penned in the few animals they had left—a pig, an old goat, a few hens , and one mean cockerel—she looked around for a better weapon than the small knife she carried in the belt at her waist to fit the fish . From the few farm instruments stacked near the back door , she grabbed the most threatening looking: a long- handled hoe . A sharp sickle for reaping the grain would be better, but here in the once woods they didn't have any crops other than the few hardy vegetables they could get to grow in their small garden.
She heard a loud grunting sound and her imagination could no longer be contained. She knew what it meant,but her it still didn't prepare her for the sight that met her eyes when she moved from the back room where the animals were kept in the winter into the living area.
Her mother was lying on the table where they'd broken their fast a while ago, a soldier in mail and a blue- and - white surcoat leaning over her. He had his back to Carissa , but from the thrusting movement of his hips between her mother's spread legs it was obvious what he was doing. He had his forearm pressed across her mother's throat to prevent her from talking— and breathing.
Her mother's eyes already wide eyes bulged wider in fresh panic when she saw Carissa over his shoulder. Carissa heard the wordless plea to Leave, to run and not look back, to stay safe, but she could not heed it. Her mother was the only person in the world she loved. She couldn't let her die.
Carissa's fingers squeezed around the wooden handle, her muscles tensing with readiness. Not for the first time, she wished she was bigger. She'd always been small for her age, and the famine of war and English occupation had made her slender frame scrawny. But she worked hard, and what flesh she had on her bones was muscle.
Calling on every strength she possessed, Carissa lifted the hoe high and swung as hard as she could across the soldier's head. But he must have sensed her approach and turned his head just enough to avoid the strike to the temple she'd intended. Instead , the iron of the hoe connected with the steel of his helm. The force was enough to make him stagger , knocking him off her mother , but unfortunately not his feet.
So how's this chapter guys🤔longer than the rest I reckon wanted to make it more interesting and engaging lemme know what y'all think in the comment section.