Chapter 3
Hantle lost his scream to a heaving chest. He clambered up the broken boards of the coop and froze, crouching on the small roof. Tears welled in his grey eyes as his hands trembled, just inches away from his sons’ faces. Rounfil stood at the fence, wearing a look of uncertainty. Another cry escaped the father, and this second wail drew neighbors to their porches.
Lorenca stepped outside, holding a half-eaten muffin in her hand. She looked at others on their porches and then around for the source of the sound. As she turned, she saw Rounfil’s figure next door. When the mother noticed her husband on the chicken coop, a puzzled look crossed her face. Then a possibility hit her.
The muffin crumbled against the porch floorboards as she ran the short distance between houses. Without stopping, she swept her legs and dress over the fence and left fibers behind as she sprinted to the broken coop. One of her husband’s feet had slipped off the roof and hung in mid air, but his grip held him in place.
Hantle took up entirety of the roof, so Lorenca was only able to climb part way up. She came to a rest with her hand gripping Hantle’s belt, along his back.
“What, Hantle? What?” She peeked around her husband and saw their boys, Hultier and Dolcium, both with their eyes closed. The faces lay at an odd angle. Realization of their doom struck and she staggered back, but Hantle’s arm steadied her. She went limp for a moment before a burst of energy brought her up to the roof. Forcing her husband to the side, she gathered up her boys and clutched them to her chest. Both the mother and father rocked with shock and grief for a moment before Rounfil had the sense to pull them down and away from the coop.
Rounfil lead the grieving parents away, back to their home. Lorenca’s top was stained with tears and blood. Once inside, Rounfil sat them both on the couch. Hantle’s head rested in his hands. Lorenca, unaware of the mess on her clothes, stared blankly at the wooden panels of their floor.
Hantle’s closest friend took the duty of arranging a funeral. “I’ll call the doctor to prepare the… boys. In a few hours, we’ll gather the town for a service.” The parents broke down again, each clutching the other. Their cries spilled out of the house, carrying through the humid air for hours.
Members of the town gathered in the street and watched as Rounfil walked to the doctor’s house. As he told of what happened, the physician sent his family inside. Nodding gravely, the doctor collected his bag of instruments and followed as Rounfil lead to the coop. Together, they brought the remains to the ground and kept others from the yard.
The doctor briefly examined each of the boys before wrapping them in cloth. Rounfil helped carry the remains to the doctor’s home, where each boy would be prepared for burial. Here, the doctor was left to his work. Once word spread further, a carpenter offered to make the caskets. Sounds of sawing filled the air to join the cries of Hantle and Lorenca.
Parents ordered their children to stay inside to keep them from the tragedy. Little eyes peered from behind curtains out windows, understanding not what they saw. The town’s people wanted to keep busy and offered assistance as they could. A group dismantled the chicken coop and drug the wood off into the forest. A line of people brought buckets of water from the cove to clear the yard and fence of gore. Some prepared the town’s square for the funeral as others walked with shovels toward a long, forested hill on the eastern edges of town. There, they cleared a new area in the cemetery and dug graves.
As people completed their chores, they gathered along the street and spoke with muted voices. The shock and disbelief of a grisly sight was replaced by the fear of what caused it. They had washed away wolf prints from the fence and grass, but no one could remember sighting a wolf this year. Many of the homes in Founsel were families with children. Every parent there felt despair for Hantle and Lorenca and could only guess at how this would change the couple. Yet what could these other parents do to ensure this same fate would not strike any more of the young? The group decided that, after the funeral and condolence meal, a group armed with muskets would search for the wolf’s trail.
Hammer strokes sounded along the street as the carpenter drove his final nails. The coffins were full-sized, even though the remains would fill just a small portion; their normality helped preserve the memory of the children before their untimely demise. Into each box’s lid, the carpenter chiseled the name of a boy. The woodworker then rigged a horse to his carriage and, with some help, loaded the coffins. He parted those on the street on his drive to the doctor’s home.
Upon hearing the horse approach, the doctor met the wagon outside. The two unloaded the coffins and carried them in. Both boys were wrapped tightly in white cloth which contrasted the blood on the doctor’s hands. The physician laid first Hultier and then Dolcium into the caskets before the carpentered nailed both lids in place. Each stroke hung in the air like a bell’s heavy toll. After the coffins were hefted back into the card, the carpenter drove them to the town’s square.
There, a handful helped unload the caskets and placed them side-by-side atop bails of hay. Rounfil announced the funeral would happen shortly, and the group dispersed to their homes to change outfits and gather children. After putting on his black, Rounfil went to Hantle and Lorenca’s. He helped the parents get dressed, and lead them, clad in the color of their grief, to the square. They passed several street lights, which had been refilled and relit. The large glass shades were darkened toward the top by soot from the flames burning therein for years.
The town’s people had arrived and sat upon an eclectic mix of chairs in the square. Hantle and Lorenca were directed to plush armchairs borrowed from the doctor. Flowers and ribbons of many colors lay around and across the coffins. From the south, up the street, came the town’s oldest living person. Liova was seventy-seven and in good health. Her son and grandson accompanied her; each holding an arm as they walked to the congregation. The town’s elder was responsible for leading the ceremony.
Once up to the bales, Liova spread additional flowers over the caskets before sitting on a bale in between. She closed her eyes, folded her hands, and sat in silence for several minutes. When she rose to speak, she motioned for the group to stand with her. In her hands were two golden lilies.
“I’ve the unfortunate duty to announce the passing of the Doolsun’s boys, Dolcium and Hultier. They were taken from us last night by a wolf.
“Their father, Hantle, found them this morning. He and his wife should be comforted to hear that, this afternoon, a group will scour the area in search of that beast. We are united, in triumph and in despair. I wish to express all our condolences to Hantle and Lorenca during this tragic time.” Her voice had wavered and she paused to collect herself before going on.
“We must all remember, however, the Mechanisms, which tell us how the world of Iomesel — this beautiful and wondrous home we inhabit — was created through the Cataclysm. The undoing of things past is not the end of all things. All of Founsel will show Mr. and Mrs. Doolsun support. We will recognize the grief they hold, and do all we can to show them inclusion and understanding and love in our small community.”
She blinked away tears and turned to set one of the lilies first on Dolcium’s coffin – him being the smallest – then on Hultier’s. She twice bent and kissed the names carved into the lids. Liova then took Hantle and Lorenca by the arms and lead them to the coffins. The husband and wife stood there for several minutes, each in the other’s arms, weeping. Liova motioned for a group of four to come and shoulder the first casket. The one chiseled with ‘Hultier’. His parents walked behind the bearers. Liova and her boys followed them; after came the rest of the townsfolk.
The two fresh graves sat next to granite pillars which marked the resting place of Hantle’s parents. Lorenca lowered a hood over her solemn features as the bearers lowered Hultier to rest atop the grave. Two ropes ran across the grave opening and were staked into the ground to support the coffin. The four then returned to the square and, shortly, little Dolcium rested just as Hultier. The bearers lined up on the outsides of the two pits. The elder signaled and those four bent over, removed the stake at their foot, and took the rope in hand. They simultaneously let out lengths of rope and each coffin descended into the ground. The cemetery now held seventeen dead. Dolcium, age six, was the youngest buried in years.
The elder produced two mourning wreaths and gave them to Hantle and Lorenca. Liova stepped back from the two; her role was finished. The parents drove the stakes of the wreaths into the soil. From each wreath hung a small bell that rang with the movement. The parents then placed handfuls of dirt into each pit. Several shovels stuck up from the ground, and one of these Hantle picked up. He added more dirt to the tops of the coffins. The individuals who had dug the holes stepped up to help fill them. The mourning wreaths would serve as markers, along with the fresh soil, until headstones could be located and carved.
Once the graves were filled, everyone made their way back to the square, forming a circle with the grieving at the center. There, long wooden tables were topped with a selection of meats, fruits, and early-harvest vegetables. Loaves of bread and baked dishes were brought out warm. A round table contained a selection of cordials and sweet wines. Neither Hantle nor Lorenca ate much, but the rest of the town had worked up an appetite in preparing for the ceremony and had no trouble putting away the spread.
The cloudless sky and warm sun made a few of the younger children cry in discomfort, and their parents walked them back home. The cooks then cleared the plates, silverware, and cups. Additional hands lugged the tables back to their dining rooms.
Shortly thereafter, hunters gathered in the square with long rifles and bows and arrows. There were ten total, including Hantle. Rounfil took lead of the group.
“Hantle, we are all here for you. Together we will search for the wolf and avenge your pain.” He looked around the rest of the group. “Let’s start by where the coop stood, and then fan out into the forest.”
Back by the cemetery, the wolf sat a dozen yards further east into the woods. He had been in this shadowy silence from the time the graves were dug. During the funeral ceremony, he looked longingly at the group – those prospects of food. As the parents left the graveyard, a breeze caught the trees and the sun cut through the forest canopy. Sun rays fell into the wolf’s face and he squinted nastily upward. The bright orb always irritated his eyes and made him anxious. The bother spurred the wolf to move and slink further off into the forest. He’d rest in deeper, darker corners of the woods until the night. Boys and hens had filled his belly and grown his strength. But he would prowl again; he needed more.
The hunting party returned in the early dusk, just after the sun had set beyond a fiery horizon. All they had to show for their effort were muddy boots and an empty musket. The group had found wolf prints, which they estimated no more than an hour or two old, next to a small pond in the forest. They tracked the prints a few feet, but lost the trail amid brambles and rocky ground. Hantle, enraged at having missed the beast, fired his weapon into a nearby tree. He suggested poisoning the pond, but others reminded him that many other animals used it as a watering hole.
They made their way out of the forest and along the cobblestone road, to there catch the sound of children playing in the town’s square. Hantle’s grey eyes watered as he heard their laughs. How fortunate were they to be too young to know what grief or danger was.
Rounfil put his arm across Hantle’s shoulders and said, “We covered a lot of ground today. Remember, we will keep an eye out for the wolf.”
Another in the group added, “Aye, Hantle, we’re together in this.”
Hantle nodded and left the group to head home. He found Lorenca seated on the porch, numbly watching the fireflies dotting their yard. The moon rose above the trees and Hantle lead his wife inside to gentle lantern light.
Other parents collected their young and went indoors as well. They’d not give an easy option to the carnivore tonight. Smoke rose from chimneys carrying the smell of meaty dinners.