Page 12 of Sins of the Stone

Ursulette

T he unusual duo returned to the village, Ursulette clinging to his neck. Her eyes were round as she watched the environment below. Vibrant emerald pines were whizzing by and the wind was howling in her ears. She wondered how he could do this as often as he did, considering she felt as if her lunch was about to come back up. She could’ve appreciated the lovely sight if she didn’t feel like her stomach was in knots.

If only.

Ramuz’s secure embrace didn’t provide much help. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him not to drop her, but it was the mere idea of being hundreds of feet in the air. She wasn’t sure what the future held, but in this world, things could change in a flash. All she knew was that she hoped to grow accustomed to the view and perhaps enjoy it.

His grip was firm, though far from uncomfortable. They were just below the cloud line, her skin slightly damp from the moisture in the air. The chill didn’t help with the fear in the slightest, and she fought the chatter in her teeth.

Just over the horizon, Ursulette caught a glimpse of her ruined village. From where they were now, it didn’t look good. She pinched her eyes shut, not wanting to face the reality until it was right before her. Ursulette felt his chest rise as if sighing sadly. Grabbing him harder, she felt her stomach drop as they began to descend. Though, it wasn’t from the height, but from dread.

Once they were on the ground, Ramuz released her. The biting cold was unmistakable, nipping her skin as she wrapped her arms around her shoulders. He gave her a wistful smile, one that was touched with sadness. Their anxiety filled the air, swirling with the frigidness of the frost.

Ursulette gave him a nod and headed towards the village, dirt crunching beneath her feet. Each hesitant step only compounded her worry as the faint smell of wet ash pricked her nose. Ramuz followed shortly behind, seemingly giving her the space she needed. Before lifting her eyes from the crumbling ground below, she sighed deeply, nibbling her lip. Her heart thudded in her core like a violent drum.

A charred plank at her feet stopped her in her tracks. Thinking back, a vision struck her, recalling the haunting screams that burrowed their way into her memory. It felt like a parasite slowly worming into her brain, devouring every positive memory and replacing them with horror. Soon, Ramuz was at her side, setting a clawed hand on her shoulder. Their eyes met, hers filling with tears.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” she said.

“We can come back—”

Ursulette shook her head vigorously, trying to quell her sorrows. Ramuz nodded again, acknowledging her commitment. The wind picked up, delivering a storm of ash along with the unmistakable stench of decay. Her eyes widened, sending her hand over her face as another round of tears welled along her eyelids. She stifled a gag as her face twisted. Ramuz opened his mouth to speak, but Ursulette interrupted.

“I have to do this,” she asserted. “Running away again won’t help me.”

“I understand.”

Her bottom lip quivered again. “I-I, um, don’t want to cry in front of you,” she said, her speech wavering with her crumbling emotions. “Again.” He offered a somber smile.

“If you need me, I will be here, Ursulette.” Her heart swelled with emotion, and she returned his generous expression. With that, he turned away, leaving her to process whatever heartache awaited. Ursulette took a hesitant step, feeling as if her shoes were encased in stone. Dragging her feet, she approached the edge of the village .

She spotted a cracked gargoyle statue from the corner of her eye. There were splotches of black ash coating one side, while a large shard was taken out of the center, leaving a V-shaped gap where the face should be. The sight made a shiver crawl down her spine, but she pushed on.

After taking one last calming breath, she lifted her head. Any word or noise she tried to make caught in her throat like someone had ripped the breath straight from her lungs.

What lay in front of her was the single most horrifying sight she had ever seen. Every house was dark with char—if they were standing at all. More often than not, what was previously a home was now a pile of cinders, each jagged edge tipped with a crispy snow white.

On the few houses not kissed with fire was something arguably worse. Splats of dark brown-red liquid were splashed along everything like a coat of morbid paint. Even worse was the scatter of cadavers lying lifelessly about the village. A strange buzzing was ringing in her ears. Before, she thought it was a surge of emotion. Now she realized it was the cloud of insects that were feasting on the rotting remains of the townsfolk.

Fighting back another gag, her eyes caught on a bloated corpse. They were so hued with unnatural shades that it was hard to discern the gender or race of the person. Ursulette covered her mouth again, both holding back vomit and a scream that would surely rip her vocal cords.

She was also concerned about spooking Ramuz, knowing that if he sensed danger, he would come running. With her gaze locked on the corpse that was once a human being, she felt hot tears streaming down her rosy cheeks. Unable to bear the sight anymore, she turned away.

Moving on, she wandered down the path, heading to the library. She hoped trying to save something would lift her spirits. Unfortunately, she only found more destruction as she was reaching the center of the village. More cadavers, blackened houses, and ruin. There was not a living being left, at least, not residing here. She knew there would be survivors, but judging by the sheer number of bodies, there wouldn’t be many.

Making her way down the path, she noticed each bundle of decay drawing her red-tinted eyes. It was human nature to be attracted to catastrophe. Each carcass only hammered home the reality, compounding the growing numbness in her soul.

Finally, she made her way to the town center, her eyes catching on the gallows that, ironically, remained untouched. She felt her shoulders droop at the stark reminder of death that exacerbated the tears she was trying so desperately to hold back. Even though they hadn’t used the gallows in many years, they remained tall, a proclamation of death above the sea of destruction.

Beside the ominous nooses was the half-demolished jail. Of course, the cells were still standing and exposed to the elements. She shivered, thinking about how terrible it was that two structures that represented the end of life and imprisonment were still together.

Hoping to draw herself out of the horror, she entered the library with unsavory results. Everything was coated in black—everything that wasn’t reduced to ash. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much left. Only the little counter that Maritza used to nestle behind remained with a small stack of dust-covered books beneath it.

The book she returned right before the massacre was sitting on top. She scooped the stack up, her face flushing with the memory. There was little time to reminisce as she returned to meet with Ramuz. She maintained her composure thus far and didn’t want to ruin her streak by mourning the place she loved so much.

Wiping away another tear, she exited. She circled past the gallows, feeling as if they had eyes and were watching her—taunting her. Recovering the books didn’t make her feel better. In fact, it made her feel worse, remembering that if she and Ramuz were caught together, it would end poorly for both of them.

She almost imagined herself dangling from those ropes, her face swelling with blue until she expired. She gulped, picking up her pace. There was enough despair entangling her. She didn’t need to think about her own demise.

Ursulette continued, hoping to make it back to her house. If she was lucky, maybe she could salvage something. Though her hopes weren’t high, she hurried along, praying her eyes wouldn’t stick to any more corpses. She was quite successful at first until a mass blocked her route. She approached it, feeling like an invisible hand was choking her. The familiar stench of decay dug its claws into her brain.

As she advanced upon the object, a sick feeling wrenched her stomach. She knew what it was but didn’t want to admit it. She tried to pretend this was just a vile nightmare and that she would wake up in a sweat. Then, she could move on with her day, and everything would go back to normal. A scream shattered the buzzing silence, making her heart jolt. It was only when she felt her throat burning that she realized the sound was coming from her.

“ Oh, my gods!” she cried. It was a sight that would plague her for the remainder of her days. The unmistakable shape of a mother clutching a motionless, pale child was seared into her memory, each one brimming with different hues of death—blues, purples, browns.

The mother’s eyes were hard to miss, pulled wide with fear, the whites now rust-colored . Even worse, the distinct look of torn bite marks was pressed into the mother’s skin, culminating with a jagged tear across her neck.

Ursulette’s shriek reverberated through the empty village, only accentuated by the squirming insects leaving a train of green-brown slime behind as they traveled across their pasty, flaking skin. Losing her composure, she dropped the books as a familiar noise resounded from behind.

“Ursulette!” Ramuz called, his voice flecked with concern. One of the books flopped onto the corpse, causing a layer of skin to slough off the leg, sending the maggots into a frenzy. She sucked in another breath just to continue screaming as he yanked her away.

“It’s a baby, it’s a fucking baby!” Ursulette continued to shout even after her face was buried in his stony chest. She gripped him as her wails transformed into hysterical sobs. All of her pent-up emotions were spilling out in a single grotesque display. Self-consciousness about crying was the last thing on her mind.

Ramuz threaded his bulky hand through her hair, murmuring hushed comforts in a feeble attempt to console her. His embrace would’ve been lovely had it not been for the circumstances. She feared she would never get that image out of her head.

With her fists balled, she hoped the pain of her nails biting into her flesh would diminish her emotion, but there was no solace. Not when an innocent mother and child lay at her feet. Not when she froze and ended up unconscious. Not when she could still live a full life, and they could not.

The guilt only aggravated her fit, causing her to cry harder. She wasn’t sure how long they stood there. It could’ve been hours. Ramuz’s head was tilted, stroking her hair even after her sobs turned to tiny whimpers and eventually dried up.

She could feel his warmth pressed against her. Even though his skin was coarse, she never realized how smooth it was. Flattening her palms against him, she sucked in a breath, finally returning to equilibrium. After gulping down the rest of her emotions, she spoke.

“Sorry,” she said, wiping away the last remaining tear from her cheek. Ramuz released her, his touch lingering just a moment longer. She couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact with him. Out of the corner of her vision, she could see his brow furrow.

“There is no need for you to be sorry,” he said. Ursulette sunk her head into her neck. All of her emotions had been drained dry, and now she felt like a hollow shell. She welcomed the numbness. The pressure in her sinuses was indescribable.

Ramuz strolled over to where she dropped the books, picking up the few that weren’t dangerously close to the travesty. She noticed his eye catch on one—the one with the monster and human on the front—but he didn’t comment. She thanked the gods for not adding to her distress, even if it was a small blessing.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said, aiming to look in any other direction. She didn’t want him to witness what had caused her such distress. Out of the corner of her vision, she saw him shrug, heading back with the tomes.

“I do not mind,” he said. “I have seen a fair share of misery in my day.” A slight pang of guilt took hold. He probably had seen more destruction than she had. Ursulette ground the tip of her toe into the dirt beneath her feet. Of course, he was used to it. He had lived her life many times over. Surely, he had seen much worse than this. She feared what sights could top this experience.

Ramuz handed her the books, his hand lingering on the top one for a moment too long. Her mouth dried up, almost forgetting what she had just witnessed. He gave her a melancholic smile, then motioned across the path to exit the village. She gave him a nod. Even though she felt shame for not burying them, she knew she couldn’t handle it. The little peek she got was enough.

They headed away from the scene. Ursulette’s gaze stuck to the ground. She only knew where she was going by following his shadow, watching every twist and turn until they were again on the outskirts of the village. Once she knew she wouldn’t be seeing any more death, she raised her head, noticing an abundance of items piled up on the ground ahead of them. As if reading her mind, Ramuz spoke.

“I found some things you might want.” He crouched down, picked up a stack of papers and a pouch, and handed them to her. She was unsure how to process such a kind gesture. Setting the books down, he took the paper and pouch, pulling it open, revealing a handful of quills and a font of ink. Their eyes met, hers shining with another round of tears.

“I figured you could leave a note for anyone still around. Then we can come back and see if we can meet with any survivors,” he said. “Well, you can. I will be hiding.” Ursulette’s bottom lip trembled again. It would be nice to be with the others again, but would they be so accepting if she brought along Ramuz eventually?

The thought conflicted with her emotions. On one hand, the citizens and she needed to stick together so they could rebuild. On the other, it could put them both in danger. Would they show the same kindness she would if the role were reversed? Not to mention that she wanted to see Giles again if he was alright.

“I would hate for you not to have anyone like you in your life,” he said. Her chest felt like it caved in, feeling as if the statement was more morose than it should’ve been. Taking a shuddering breath, she brought herself back to balance .

“Thank you,” she said. “That’s a good idea.” Ramuz gave her a bright grin, making her heart skip.

He’s so sweet.

She felt her throat tighten again as tears formed along her eyelids. Her breath felt heavy once more as her shoulders began to tremble.

“Oh, please do not cry again. It breaks my heart,” he said. Ursulette returned his pleased gesture, hoping to assure him everything was okay. Perhaps it was the first time she smiled genuinely since the massacre.

“Sorry,” she said bashfully. Ramuz shook his head, a playful expression on his face.

“And no more apologizing. You have nothing to be sorry for,” he added. Wiping away a stray tear, she kneeled and grabbed a book—not that one—and pressed the paper to it. Pulling the ink from the pouch, she dipped the tip into the viscous liquid and began to pen a note while Ramuz watched.

“I also found some things I thought you may want,” he said. “Some from your house, too.” Immediately, her cheeks flushed, pondering what exactly he had found and how he figured out which was her house. Shaking the thought away and hopefully the blush as well, she continued to write, knowing fully well the color was far from gone.

“Oh really? Like what?” She struggled to hide the nervousness in her voice. Ramuz didn’t indicate that he had seen that specific shameful act, but it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.

Ursulette had mixed feelings about the chance he viewed something he shouldn’t have, but she swept that idea out of her head before panicking about it. She already suffered enough today. She crossed her fingers mentally, hoping he wouldn’t say something like I found this weird thing, or I do not know what this is for, but I thought you would like it.

“Some fabric, a notebook, a sewing kit, and a few other things,” he said. “I know you like to sew.” Her blush deepened as the end of the quill nib carved gouges into the paper with the trembling in her hand. Shaking off the pressure, she finished her note and handed it to Ramuz. He gave a bashful grin as if pretending to study it.

“Though I am sure it is beautiful, unfortunately, I cannot interpret your work,” he said with a smile. “Maybe you can teach me sometime.” He returned the paper to her, and she took it with a content expression.

“I’ll read it to you,” she said. “It says I have survived the siege and would like to meet with any remaining survivors. I will return two weeks from what I believe is the fourth day of October. Please meet me here if you see this. Ursulette.” Ramuz nodded, bending down and grabbing a hearty stone.

“It is lovely,” he said. “I will go place it at the town square. Hopefully, someone will find it. Then we can go home.” Ursulette returned him a gentle smile.

“That sounds good.”