Fantine

The freezing river water was lapping against my ankles as I stood among the silent bodies of the northern enforcers on the muddy bank, and the smell of burnt gunpowder was heavy in the night air while I bent down to examine the deep impressions left in the wet earth near the edge of the reeds. The heavy boot prints had a specific cross-hatched pattern on the heel that only my father’s elite scouts wore, and they led straight away from the burning bridge supports into the thickest part of the dark marsh where the willow trees grew dense and low over the black water.

"There is someone else...