Pop had taken Catta to the village, letting her drive the wagon while he rode alongside on his big bay, Mangle. She had been practicing and the big draft horse, Old Molly, grew accustomed to her hand on the reins as the traveled through the day on the way to the village, passing farms and fields with sheep as they went. Catta was happy to have her father all to herself for a few days.
They had gotten their shopping done in the village, taking a couple of days to gather the supplies they needed. Father and daughter headed home along the narrow wagon trail, past the thick woods, and the meadows, with early spring flowers blooming the first green of the spring. They stopped in at Annie Blackpot's little cabin and had tea and shared a block of cheese with their neighbor.
Pop had seen black plume of smoke at Annie's. They discussed in worried voices what could be burning, and soon Pop mounted his horse and turned Mangle's head down the path toward home. "I'll see you at home, Catta." he said as he spurred Mangle to a gallop.
"I'll gather my things quickly, Catta, and ride in the wagon with you," said Annie. She was a healer, and as worried as Catta had quickly become, she knew waiting for Annie was the right thing to do.
She flicked the reins and drove old Molly faster than she should have down the rutted path. Molly didn't like the smell of smoke, and soon it was all she could do to keep the big draft horse moving forward. The closer they got to home, the denser the smoke was. Catta wondered if the forest was burning up.
As she pulled around the last bend she could see through the last few trees that it was not the forest, but the barn that was engulfed in flames. The stones of the house had collapse in, and the wooden ruins were still smoldering. For a moment, time seemed to stop.
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