In the deepening dusk.
Several villagers waited with torches beneath the old locust tree outside the village palisade.
"Why haven't they come back yet?"
"Maybe they couldn't save him, and got themselves into trouble too?"
"Shh! Don't say things like that!"
"Little Taylor, why don't you go home and get some sleep? When you wake up tomorrow, your father will be back." Seeing the little girl beside him fighting to keep her eyes open, her eyes red-rimmed, the old village chief hesitated before speaking.
Nine-year-old Taylor was wrapped in a patchwork cloak of coarse hemp. Barefoot on the cold, hard dirt covered in clumps of dung, she hung her head and said nothing, staring instead at her toes, which had turned bright red.
She had had shoes, but just before dark, some of the village children had teased her that she was going to lose her father. Furious, she'd gotten into a scuffle with them and lost her shoes.
"Will Daddy really come back?"
As the sky grew darker and darker, her father, who should have been home by now, still hadn't appeared at the village entrance. A few men had searched nearby but hadn't found him either. She had almost given up hope completely.
But a handsome young man with kind eyes had crouched beside her with a smile and promised to do his best to bring her father back.
Those words were the only thing keeping her last little shred of hope alive.
"..." The old village chief couldn't answer Taylor's question. He merely sighed and patted her on the head.
In his many years of experience, when something like this happened, it usually meant there'd been an accident. Randall wasn't an inexperienced hunter fresh out of the gate who would lose track of time or get lost