Homecoming - Chapter 1 by Jack Farquharson

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He had almost forgotten how cold the mountains could get in April; particularly after spending the last three years in the hot climates of the southlands across the water.
The rain had not let up come morning and except for a brief break at noon, had hammered him all day. Now as night drew in, he prayed silently for some sheltered area. Slowly he became aware of a glow coming from a spot ahead and to the left, behind a small belt of trees. It was faint, but as Conor rubbed water out of his eyes, it became clear that less than two hundred yards ahead was some sort of a light source, and out here in the wild passages of Glenkee that could only mean one thing...
Fire. He could see clearly now the cabin and the glow of a dying fire coming through the shutter which was ajar. He paused, noting to himself how odd it was for someone to leave a shutter open on a night such as this, and also, how the fire appeared to be very low for such an evening. Need forced him to overcome his natural caution, however, and he kneed the horse slowly towards the cabin. He approached carefully and slowly, ensuring his hands were well visible as a sign of his peaceful intent. It would not do to startle the occupants and find an arrows point welcoming him to their hearth. As he reached the cabin, he could discern no sign of life within. There was no noise except for the sound of the rain, though the cabin was neat and appeared to be in good repair.
It was a low building made from a wooden frame and walled with sods of turf. The roof was thatched and though, it looked like the thatch was last laid many years ago, the whole place gave the look of a solid building that had been constructed to last and maintained by a caring and patient person. All this Conor took in as he slowly dismounted from the horse. He walked carefully to the door and knocked twice, backing away to give himself room to move quickly, in case the welcome was less than warm. No answer greeted him, so he slowly tested the door. Surprisingly, when he lifted the latch, the door gave way and showed him a small and neat room, dominated by a large fireplace where the embers of a fire were slowly burning low. The room showed all the signs of being lived in. A small, well made table and two chairs were fond to the left of the room, and against the far right wall was a small pallet. A closed wooden door beside the table showed the way into a second room. In front of the fire, were two well made armchairs which looked like they had seen plenty of service, but which were inviting and comfortable looking nonetheless.
Conor moved into the room slowly and went to the closed door. This also opened to his touch to reveal a small bedroom with a neatly made bed and a small chest, which likely contained clothes. Though there was no-one in the house, it was obvious that it was very recently lived in. The remains of a meal were still to be seen on the table. Conor wondered at the absence of the occupants. Who would venture out on a night like this? His natural caution was aroused, by the strangeness of this, but he knew that he couldn't overlook the opportunity of shelter and warmth.