The Grimm Dossier

Chapter 31 - The Cabin

England, West Coast
Devonshire, Dartmoor
St. George, edge of woods / House of the Jäger family
5 November 1898, 3:18 pm

As they left the village, there was a rumble in the distance, and dark storm clouds hung in the sky. The black cloud front pushed closer and the wind smelled of gathering rain. The sun disappeared behind the sluggish clouds that gathered more densely in the sky and the grass bent under the increasing gusts that pressed them down as if to take a bow. They walked along the paths between the farms for a bit and then followed a narrow trail to the left as it had been described to them.

On either side of the path were fields and at first a few peat pits, but soon only flat pasture and marshland opened up. A dark green band of forest edge then drew irregularly around the village, stretching out its fingers with pines more and more often and making the foothills confusing. In contrast, the deciduous trees, in their motley dress, dabbed color into the dark green. If the searchers hadn't known about the horror that was hiding here, it could have been perceived as tranquil and idyllic. They walked for quite a while, then the Jägers' family hut finally came into view.

There, where the last homesteads already lay further back behind field and meadow, the small building was easy to miss. If Kyle had not known that the home of the village hunters, the Walsh family, was to be found on the outskirts of the village of St George, he would have suspected a hunting lodge in the wooden structure so close to the edge of the forest.

Hovering in uncertainty, their footsteps were tense and heavy as they approached the hut that stood out on the edge of the forest. A small paddock with three sheep was surrounded by a half-height wooden fence and was to the left of the house. A wall of greyish stone lay circularly like a protective wall around the small estate, whose reed-covered roof was overgrown with green mosses and vines. A somewhat slanted chimney breathed black clouds of soot into the wind, which looked like writhing shadows.

The hut was apparently made of thick wood and not stone, unlike the rest of the village or the farms that surrounded it. In a small garden, a few pumpkins could be seen and long sticks used as climbing aids for fruit or vegetables adorned small beds next to fragrant herbs. On a thick stick, a sinister scarecrow raised its long, gnarled branch arms in the air with a wry grimace. Almost as if it wanted to drive away unwanted guests as well as ravenous birds. A tattered shirt fluttered in the shallow wind and a collar of straw protruded from the neck of the sack with the crudely embroidered face. On the scarecrow's head, sat a weathered straw hat with a band of wilted wildflowers around it. The eerie thing could already be seen from a distance, but from close up it looked even more sinister.

When they reached the wooden garden gate, it was already evening. Autumn was driving the sun towards the horizon, in keeping with its short days. It slowly but surely sank behind the dense rows of trees and even now the spearheads of needle firs drew long shadows. A window with a wooden pane cross stood ajar, letting in some fresh air, while they detected a faint flicker of light from outside: The fireplace inside the parlor.

Kyle and Dr. Archer exchanged a look. They were both tense. How did a practitioner of the arcane arts react when she realized she was being found out? They had to expect anything and watch out for small clues. Kyle knew about inconspicuous signs of Dark Arts that others might miss. So it was up to him to look for such clues and up to Dr. Archer to keep a close eye on the old woman's behavior. All this with the certainty in his mind that behind these murders was someone ruthless. Someone with magical abilities.