The sky mourned with the village.
Beneath the gray, flat clouds the sky was the color of curdled milk. Rain fell in drizzling slanted waves as lightning flashed soundlessly far into the distance.
Mary walked with her younger sister, a bucket in each hand while Faith struggled with just one.
"Papa says they's gonna call the adults together," Faith grunted. Her white dress, embroidered with green flowers was caked in mud. She shook her head to settle her twin braids behind her. "Tonight at elder Joshua's home."
"It's no business of ours, Faith," Mary reminded her. Her own dress, handed down from her mother and patched several times over was nearly as filthy. She reminded herself yet again that she needed to take the laundry down to the river.
"Says you. I'm gonna go," the younger sister said defiantly. She blew air from between her lips as the rain streaked down her face
"You'll get a whoopin' if you go," the older sister replied, stepping around a large rock in their path. Her arms burned from the weights of the buckets. They'd found black growths inside their rain barrel that morning and the whole family worried whether it was the cause of their father's harsh coughing. Regardless, they decided it would be safest to draw from the well until they could clean it.
"If they catch me, Mary. You know they got better things to do than look for chil'ren running loose," the young girl huffed. She set her bucket down with a sigh. "Wait a second. My back's afire."
"You're not a child, Faith. You're old enough to be married off-"
"To who?!" Faith cried, suddenly upset. "The whole town's dyin' if'n you're too busy to
notice
."
"There's Isaiah," Mary replied, refusing to acknowledge her sister's fit.
"Papa talked to Isaiah's pa," the girl said, crossing her arms. Her dress clung wetly to her scrawny body. "I heard it from Eunice he'self. Says he's ridin' to Asher's Vale to sign up for solderin' but Eunice says she saw blood in his
shit
when she was cleanin' the pots. He won't make it to no war, let alone my wedding bed."
Mary dropped the bucket in her right hand. Suddenly weightless, her hand whipped out to slap her sister's cheek. The smaller girl staggered back with tears in her eyes.
"You watch your mouth," the older girl said as she gripped the handle of her bucket again. "Just 'cause mama ain't... isn't here doesn't mean you can use foul language."
Faith sniffled but picked up her own load and they walked silently until they drew close to their barn. The closed door hung crooked on rotted wood but opened easily when Mary pushed at it with her hips.
"'Sides," Faith said quietly. "You'll be married 'fore me."
"Maybe," Mary sighed. But, she wouldn't. She knew she wouldn't. Her sister was younger and she would pass her chance to her if a suitor was ever found. If.
Standing in the musty barn, the older sister squeezed her braid, pulling from top to bottom until it was dry. She could feel her nipples against the soaked blouse of her dress as the cold hardened her soft skin.
The sensation pulled her back, months ago during the end of summer when Isaiah had cornered her in the barn, roughly kissing her while pawing at her chest. He hadn't said a word. Hadn't told her he liked her or wanted her or anything. One moment, he was helping her with chores and, the next, his mouth was on hers. Awkwardly, as he painfully pinched her nipples.
He'd left when her papa had called for her to come inside. All she had felt was was the desire for him to be finished with his business before she got in trouble for taking too long with her chores.
"Come on, then," Mary said as she pulled her dress away from her body. "Get inside and clean up while I go look for wood. We burned the last of the good ones for father last night."
"Mary," Faith said, grabbing her sister's sleeve. "Don't- don't be long, hear? It don't feel right today."
"I won't," the older girl said, gently kissing her sister's forehead. She grabbed her bonnet and basket before turning back at the door. "Get to scrubbin' and don't forget to save the ashes from the pit this time. I'll be back 'fore you know it."
The cold, driving rain forced a gasp from the young woman's lips. She grit her teeth and bowed her head against it but, as she walked to the edge of the village, she found herself yearning for the warmth of her bed. She wiggled her frozen toes while shoving her hands beneath her armpits as the basket hung from the crook of her arm.
She wandered through the trees, walking deeper while keeping the village ever at her back to remember her way home. The areas she knew were picked clean by her and others so she found herself pushing even deeper than before.
A branch snapped, drawing her attention. She glanced over her shoulder while going around a mushroom covered log but there was nothing. And no fearsome creature she knew could hide behind the sickly thin birch trees in this part of the forest.
When she looked ahead, she saw it.
A swell of dirt lay ahead of her. It appeared as a grass and moss covered boulder but the core of the boulder was missing, opening instead into darkness.
Wooden chimes clattered, drawing her attention. She looked up to see a pole at the crest of the mound. Animal skulls lined the post with carved charms tied to dried tendons hanging from their horns and jaws. The charms twisted and flailed in the wind to create a cacophony of sounds and a trilling whistle joined as the wind flowed through the bones.
Mary held the basket close but stood on her numb toes to peer into the cave.
I shouldn't
, she told herself.
Yet, the structure appeared ancient and abandoned and her mind turned to her dying village.
Anything
could make the difference between starvation and survival. If those who built the cave stored anything of value, the elders could sell it and buy food for the people.
"H- Hello?" she called out.
The wind rose and the whistling noise flattened into a low
