Gabriel was almost back to us.
She
said that there was more to it. During the course of her captivity, they got
comfortable with her presence and slipped up and let her overhear not only
where their main camp was, but also that they were planning an attack on Woburn
with over a two hundred fighters for the middle of May. Several times they also
mentioned having a canon of some sort that they planned to use to destroy the
town’s defenses. Finally, she told me that many of the fighters had gathered
in the town near the fWhile so engagedwotarm where she and Gabriel had been held, in preparation
for the trek to Woburn.
Now
it made sense. They had to recapture or kill her. They couldn’t allow her to
carry that information back to the town. If the townspeople knew Ponytail was
coming, they could prepare for the attack. They could also pre-empt the
assault by attacking Ponytail first.
At
this point, Gabriel joined us and said that he didn’t see anyone but there were
also large areas he couldn’t observe because of the trees. He, too, was
shaking badly.
I
guess I was still feeling a little cranky about the way she had been treating
me because I didn’t thank or acknowledge her in any way for telling me the
story. Instead, I told Gabriel to give me one of the sections of wing fabric
he was carrying.
The
piece was about three feet wide and sixteen feet long, so I folded it in half
and cut it into two eight foot sections. I then took each of those sections
and fashioned them into a poncho of sorts that they could put over their heads
and cinch around their waist with a belt. I figured that would help with the
cold, certainly the wet. After that I told them we better get moving again.
After
another hour on foot, we cut an old logging road and then a second one maybe
half a mile beyond that. The terrain was brutal. I had scratches and bruises
all up and down my shins from stepping over and through deadfalls. My hands
were taking a hell of a beating as well. They were cut, and split, and swollen
from much abuse. Because of that, the roads were tempting, even if for only a
short distance. But as I mentioned, though they would have made our lives
much easier, they could also offer a trap.
Being
all banged up like that wasn’t even the worst of it. The cold was relentless,
digging its fingers deep inside, partly because I was so wet. For the most
part the rain had stopped but by then it was too late. I was already soaked
from the knees down and the water had managed to squeeze inside my poncho, down
my neck, and dampen my shoulders, chest and back. I was just plain miserable,
and I’m sure Anna and Gabriel were too. It raised some serious concerns about
hypothermia.
Climbing
to about 6500 feet or so, we came upon a large flat area that had apparently been
dozed years before, maybe for the parking of logging vehicles or to stack
timber for pick up, I really don’t know. At the far eastern end of it was a
creek, and parallel to that was what used to be another single-wide dirt road
that went north. More interesting, though, was that on the north edge of this
same flat area stood a small wood shack with a metal roof. It looked unoccupied
but in good condition.
We
watched the shed from the safety of the trees for about fifteen minutes or so before
I told Anna and Gabriel to remain where they were, and I would check it out. I
really didn’t want to go down there. The safe thing to do would have been to
just bypass it because I didn’t really know where our pursuers were. Maybe
they had somehow managed to get ahead of us and were waiting inside. But we
were headed into some pretty miserable conditions, and there could easily be
something inside the building that could help us survive. =tif
I
approached from the west end because there were no windows on that wall, and if
anyone was inside waiting for us, they wouldn’t be able to see me. From there,
I took a
She
said that there was more to it. During the course of her captivity, they got
comfortable with her presence and slipped up and let her overhear not only
where their main camp was, but also that they were planning an attack on Woburn
with over a two hundred fighters for the middle of May. Several times they also
mentioned having a canon of some sort that they planned to use to destroy the
town’s defenses. Finally, she told me that many of the fighters had gathered
in the town near the fWhile so engagedwotarm where she and Gabriel had been held, in preparation
for the trek to Woburn.
Now
it made sense. They had to recapture or kill her. They couldn’t allow her to
carry that information back to the town. If the townspeople knew Ponytail was
coming, they could prepare for the attack. They could also pre-empt the
assault by attacking Ponytail first.
At
this point, Gabriel joined us and said that he didn’t see anyone but there were
also large areas he couldn’t observe because of the trees. He, too, was
shaking badly.
I
guess I was still feeling a little cranky about the way she had been treating
me because I didn’t thank or acknowledge her in any way for telling me the
story. Instead, I told Gabriel to give me one of the sections of wing fabric
he was carrying.
The
piece was about three feet wide and sixteen feet long, so I folded it in half
and cut it into two eight foot sections. I then took each of those sections
and fashioned them into a poncho of sorts that they could put over their heads
and cinch around their waist with a belt. I figured that would help with the
cold, certainly the wet. After that I told them we better get moving again.
After
another hour on foot, we cut an old logging road and then a second one maybe
half a mile beyond that. The terrain was brutal. I had scratches and bruises
all up and down my shins from stepping over and through deadfalls. My hands
were taking a hell of a beating as well. They were cut, and split, and swollen
from much abuse. Because of that, the roads were tempting, even if for only a
short distance. But as I mentioned, though they would have made our lives
much easier, they could also offer a trap.
Being
all banged up like that wasn’t even the worst of it. The cold was relentless,
digging its fingers deep inside, partly because I was so wet. For the most
part the rain had stopped but by then it was too late. I was already soaked
from the knees down and the water had managed to squeeze inside my poncho, down
my neck, and dampen my shoulders, chest and back. I was just plain miserable,
and I’m sure Anna and Gabriel were too. It raised some serious concerns about
hypothermia.
Climbing
to about 6500 feet or so, we came upon a large flat area that had apparently been
dozed years before, maybe for the parking of logging vehicles or to stack
timber for pick up, I really don’t know. At the far eastern end of it was a
creek, and parallel to that was what used to be another single-wide dirt road
that went north. More interesting, though, was that on the north edge of this
same flat area stood a small wood shack with a metal roof. It looked unoccupied
but in good condition.
We
watched the shed from the safety of the trees for about fifteen minutes or so before
I told Anna and Gabriel to remain where they were, and I would check it out. I
really didn’t want to go down there. The safe thing to do would have been to
just bypass it because I didn’t really know where our pursuers were. Maybe
they had somehow managed to get ahead of us and were waiting inside. But we
were headed into some pretty miserable conditions, and there could easily be
something inside the building that could help us survive. =tif
I
approached from the west end because there were no windows on that wall, and if
anyone was inside waiting for us, they wouldn’t be able to see me. From there,
I took a
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