Finally he concludes the best way to get the flowers back to his mother is to take them while the sorceress is out. He could then run back across the lane to the safety of his own cottage. With the plan falling into place he swiftly turns on his heels away from the porch and walks into his bedroom. Straw on the floor crunches beneath his feet as they tap at a quick pace along the cobbled floor. He grabs a small leather satchel no bigger than a loaf of bread and fills it with a couple vials of water and straw padding to avoid the flowers being damaged.
‘I am goin’ oot tae the village maw’ he calls through to the next room
‘O’right, but be nae mair than a hour or twa’ Angus!’ She splutters. With the illness heavy on her breath the rasping indicates she hasn’t got much time. He flings the strap over shoulder and without a second thought he is back out on the porch waiting for the sorceress to leave.
About three hours pass and the sun is just falling behind the mighty oak trees when she decides to depart. Still alert he moves silently towards the small cottage. The creaking gate makes him cringe as the small squeak of the hinge sounds like thunder in his ears. He ducks behind the stone wall surrounding her house and moves quickly towards the flowers. With the stem firmly in his grasp he plucks it from the soil and promptly takes four more for good measure. With the plants safely in the satchel he glances over the wall, to his horror he can see the sleek black gown of the sorceress swaying towards him. Ducking back down he sees his only option is to run down the path connecting the garden to the forest. He hesitates he doesn’t know this path and…