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“Matty, come away from the window.” Abigail bade her older brother.
“It’s snowing.” Matty informed, gazing out of the window, into the white night. He couldn’t see properly for the reflection of the candlelight behind him.
“It’s been snowing for a few days, Matty. It snows every year.” Abigail commented.
Sighing, Matty let the long, velvet curtain drape across the window. He turned and, sitting next to his younger sister, picked up his book and began to read aloud, while his sister sat stitching, sewing and mending clothes.
Matty had only read one chapter, when he became restless. At first, he attempted several different positions to get comfortable on the small couch he shared with his sister. Then, he began to read less and less enthusiastically, until finally, he put the book down on the small, circular, wooden table that stood next to the couch.
"What is it, Matty?" Abigail asked, concerned for her brother's restlessness.
"Oh, nothing." Matty shrugged it off and sighed to himself.
Abigail set aside her sewing and looked at her brother.
They had always been close - Matty being just two years older than Abigail. But they were different in so many ways.
Matty was restless and always wanting to be outside - walking along the beach or through the woods; hunting; driving a horse and trap. Anything was better than being stuck inside, reading.
Abigail, on the other hand, prefered to spend her time mending clothes, cleaning the house and reading. She was patient, subdued and calm.
Matty was often irritated by being cooped up. He didn't grasp how his sister could stand to be in the house all day - it near drove him crazy.
Abigail sensed something was wrong.
"Matty?" She asked.
"I have to go for a walk." Matty stood.
Abigail looked up at him, concern written across her pretty face. "It's cold out."
"I'll be sure and wear my coat." Matty assured her. "Besides, i'll be walking. That'll keep me warm."
Abigail opened her mouth to protest, but her brother smiled down at her and said: "You worry too much Abi, my dear sister. I'm fine. I'll be fine." Then, before another word could be spoken, he was off, out the door, towards the small closet in the main hall that held his thick, warm, fur coat.
The coat had belonged to his father and Matty had inherited it after his father passed away. No-one had protested. The coat was one of few things they had left to remember their father by.
Their father had been out hunting with some of his friends - they were looking for deer in the nearby woods - when a stray bullet found his chest.
Matty had been only fourteen at the time and Abigail twelve. Though they were young, and people around them had tried to shelter them from the horrible news, they fully understood what had happened. They knew their father was dead - he was never coming home.
Abigail had cried for weeks, while Matty turned bitter inside - hating everyone that took pity on them and always wanting to be alone - he had refused to cry, thinking it a sign of weakness.
That was five years ago now and Matty had changed. He still liked to be alone at times, but he was no longer bitter towards people.
Abigail sat in the dim candlelight, wondering where her brother would go, how long he would be out for this time. She hoped he would be safe and cautious.

The cold air almost took Matty's breath away as he stepped outside. He quickly fastened his coat and headed down the steps and along the driveway.
It was quiet outside. There was no-one around. The snow was thick and soft under Matty's heavy feet. There was a constant, soft flurry of snowflakes and, by the time Matty reached the woods, he was about as white as the bare-leafed trees.
He entered the woods and realised the snow was thinner under his feet and, as he went further in, the snow got less and less. 'The trees must've stopped the snow from getting through', Matty thought to himself as he peered up at the great, looming branches over head.
He was thankful to escape the stuffiness of the big, old house and greatly welcomed the fresh night air, cold as it was.
Out on the roads there had been a breeze that had made Matty's eyes water, but in the woods, the trees were still and there was no sound, except Matty's heavy footsteps and steady breathing.
Matty was deep in the woods and deep in thought. As he rounded a corner, a noise startled him and he snapped his head up in time to see three men, about his age, quickly dart across the path. One paused briefly, but it was long enough for matty to recognize him.
"What the -?" Matty started, but they were gone.
Confused and a little startled, Matty made his way towards the game keepers cottage, at the back of the woods. He was certain those men had been poaching and he intended to tell the game keeper. But the more he thought about it, the less likely it seemed.
Why would there be poachers in the woods during the winter? Why would Bobby Thatcher be with poachers?
Bobby was a shy boy, a year younger than Matty, and had good friends - he wasn't the trouble-making sort.
So why had he been in the woods and so eager to get away unseen?
As matty approached the cottage, he sensed there was something wrong, though everything looked fine from the outside.
He walked cautiously through the gate, up the path towards the front door. He noticed there was no light.
Matty had been to the game keepers cottage quite often at night. They were friends and the game keeper let Matty wonder through his woods on the trust that he wouldn't disturb any of the game, and Matty had proven himself trustworthy on more than one occasion.
Everytime Matty had gone to the game keepers cottage, there had a been an outside lantern lit. He lit it to keep poachers away from the birds that he kept outside his cottage in cages. But as Matty walked up he saw the lantern on the floor, the glass smashed. That was the first sign that there was definately something wrong.
He stood outside the cottage peering up at the upstairs windows. There were no lights inside either. But then, it was late and the game keeper could be asleep. The lantern could have fallen while he was sleeping. But even as Matty considered this, he doubted it.
He tapped gently on the door, only to find it open as his hand touched it.
Matty carefully put is head through the doorway and peered into the dark room. It took a while for his eyes to adjust, but once they had, he realized someone had been in there, someone that hadn't been invited.
Furniture was upturned and there was paper and stuff everywhere, all over the floor.
Matty entered the house, now knowing there was something very wrong.
"Mr.Grent?" Matty called out quietly.
There was no reply, so Matty called a little louder, but still, no reply.
Matty managed to find a candle and, pulling a box of matches from his coat pocket, he lit it. Everything looked worse in the dim light.
Pots and pans lay around haphazardly. The sofa had been turned upside and the underside slit. There was stuffing from the sofa strewn across the floor. And a big lump sticking out from just behind the sofa...
"What ... ?" Matty made his way tentatively towards the lump only to find it was Mr.Grent, the gamekeeper.
Matty bent down and shook the gamekeeper, trying to stir him, but, as Matty bent closer, he realized the gamekeeper was barely breathing and his hand was resting in something dark and sticky. Blood! There was a small pool of blood by the gamekeepers head and a little trickle of blood coming from just above his eye.
Scared and confused, Matty backed away, bumping into a dinning room chair. He tripped and fell, dropping the candle, causing the flame to flicker out. He fumbled his way to the front door in the darkness, then he ran. He ran as fast as he could to get help. It was late and he wasn't sure who would still be awake. He ran to the doctors house, hoping he would be there and hadn't been called away.
"What is it? Why are you disturbing me and half the neighborhood with your loud banging?" The doctor demanded.
"I need help." Matty stated.
"Are you dying?" The doctor asked bluntly.
"No, but... It's Mr.Grent..."
"What about him?"
"He's hurt. Bad." Matty took a step back and glanced around.
"Well, why didn't you say so boy!" The doctor dissappeared into behind the door for a short while, then emerged with a thick coat and his doctors bag.
They hurried all the way to the small cottage. The mess in the cottage didn't seem to faze the doctor. He rushed to Mr.Grent and felt for a pulse.
"He's breathing." The doctor informed Matty.
"Will he be okay?" Matty asked in a whisper.
"Help me get him upstairs to his bed."

Matty waited downstairs while the doctor looked over the gamekeeper, anxious to know what was happening.
About thirty minutes later, the doctor came back downstairs. Matty stood abruptly. The doctor scanned the room. Matty had straightened some of the furniture.
"How is he?" Matty asked.
"He'll live." The doctor said plainly. "Who did this?"
"I - I don't know." Matty lied.
The doctor looked at Matty over his spectacles, studying him. He didn't believe Matty.
"He needs to rest up a few days. Had a nasty bang to the head. You might want to lend a hand around here." The doctor scanned the room again.
"Yessir. Thank you." Matty said.
The doctor left the cottage and Matty saw it was beginning to get light outside. He decided to run back home and let his sister know he was okay.
He could imagine how much she must be worrying.