Chapter Text
It was not quite spring when the disappearance of little Irene Gagne struck the quiet town of Droomsberry. The girl was not yet 10 years old, and the quiet little town seemed to crackle with a hushed enthusiasm it had not seen in years. Idle chatter about fish or vegetable quality was replaced with hushed fervent dialogues, dramatized by solemn head shaking, harsh clicking of tongue, and the occasional indignant huff or gasp of “oh my!” The story changed wildly from the simple announcement that Sheriff Bernard gave, into an extensive scheme into the lost girl’s family.
One man in particular, Monsieur Legrand, the local goat farmer, cared deeply for the loss of the Gagnes’ youngest, and talked nothing short of pity and compassion towards the whole affair, and seemed to offer his sincerest sympathies to anyone who would listen.
“Poor things,” he would say if anyone ever asked him. “With their mother dead just last spring, and their poor father going blind, it’ll be a miracle if they keep the farm until next winter.”
If anyone asked Legrand if he should help them keep it, he would simply scratch his bearded chin and sigh.
“My hands aren’t cut out for that kind of work,” he would remark casually, before his black eyes shimmered. “But I would gladly buy that farm from them, goodness knows they’ll need the money.”
At this the listener would sigh with vicarious relief, and remark somehow upon his unyielding kindness towards the poor family. Then Legrand would lean in close, and with a hushed voice recount his growing concern.
“That boy of theirs, though,” he would say, “he may not accept my offer.” There would be a soft chuckle. “Just like his father, stubborn and determined as an ox.”
“Well just give them time,” the listener would say hopefully. “There’s still a chance they may find her.”
Mr Legrand would then nod slowly, seeming to ponder the response before leaning back in his chair.
“I hope so,” he would say before taking out his pipe. “But still, I fear that the evil in those woods may have overtaken her before God could intervene.”
For the first two days the town busied itself in this way, and on the eve of the third people could swear they heard a loud wail come from the woods.