Bounty 4
__The Hound of the Basketweaver__

“Did you hear? There was another one last night,” Mrs. Trimble whispered to Lady Grey. Sinya tried not to listen to the gossip, but talk of the murderers always caught her attention.

“Yes, so tragic. The miller’s son was a sweet boy. What a terrible end to such a short life.” Lady Grey replied with the typical lies afforded the dead. In truth, Thomas was fifteen and already had a reputation among the maids. They knew not to let themselves be alone with the bastard. Of course, everyone knew he was a bastard– except his mother’s husband.

“That is the third one this year. Do you think it will happen again next month?” the lady’s maid queried. A look of fear overtook her countenance.”Who or...what could do such a thing.” She looked around suspiciously. In a town of hundred, the suspect list was rather short.

Sinya tried to ignore the lady and her maid as she continued her work. She needed to weave three more baskets and sell four before she could go home. Her father made it clear she had to make her quota today or there would be consequences. Lady Grey and Mrs Trimble had wandered out of earshot. It was for the best, she knew how the conversation would go. They would cast suspicion on the town drunk, the mortician, and the huntsman. Then, they would then say no one could be that savage and decide it must be an animal.

A few hours later, Sinya walked home dejected. She was still one basket short. As she rounded the last turn, she tried to prepare herself for her father’s reaction. Cutting reeds was hard work, and he always drank when he returned from the fields. By the time Sinya returned home, he was well in his cups and mean. But today, as the hovel came into view, she froze—. The sheriff and the constable were loading her father into the patty wagon. After a moment of shock, she ran down to them.

“What’s happened?” she cried as she reached the sheriff. “Do na take me dad! He has na done anythin’!

“I’m sorry Miss Ani. We have irrefutable evidence that your father killed the miller’s son,” the sheriff explained. “We found a trail of blood leading from the body to your barn where we found several bones buried. There’s only one explanation for it. Mrs. Crawley will be by shortly to help you collect your things and move you to the public house. She’s going to let you stay there for free. It’s all arranged. I’m sorry.” With that, they boarded the wagon and carted the inebriated man off.

Twenty eight days later…

Sinya was making the best of her situation. Her father had been beheaded for his crimes in the town square. She didn’t weep, though. She hadn’t loved the man. She just hadn’t known she could survive without him. But now, she was bussing tables at the pub and things were looking up. The town had moved on. Nobody spoke of the grisly murders or the man punished for it. It seems like everything was going to be ok. Then–the dream returned.

As Sinya wiped down tables, she overheard the patrons whispering. There had been another one. This time right here in town. The constable found him in his office...well mostly in his office. Some of the sheriff was also in the street, and on the sidewalk, and on the walls. Timer was, he had been dipping his pen in the company ink and his secretary left town after being seen with mysterious injuries to her neck. The morning after the next full moon, he was found butchered.

Apparently, her father hadn’t been a murderer, just a mean drunk. But that didn’t help anyone figure out who the true butcher was. Sinya didn’t know why she always dreamt of the murders, but they always left her tired and scared. She wished the premonitions would stop. She knew she couldn’t tell anyone. Witches were drowned here, no matter how helpful they were. So she continued in her work and left the mystery to the professionals...or what was left of them.