Post Mortem : The Fates

Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Hide

It was bigger than the town she had come to know, at least five times the size. The stone houses were so close they touched and hugged each other in a cluster of rows. Unlike her town, this one had small hints of lush green grass between the cracks of the buildings. Rochelle snuggly pulled the hood of the cloak over her head; she was going to have to keep her head down.

Hundreds of people weaved in and out of the cobblestone streets like ants forcing her to walk at a pace too slow for her feet. Her palms began to perspire as she passed the town's gallows. In the dead center, Rochelle saw two long lines of vendors set up like a market. The smell of spices and fresh bread was thick in the air.

She reached into her satchel unsure of whether the coins remained after the chase. Relief caressed her being as the familiar cold metal kissed her skin softly. Five silver coins. It would not buy much.

Her mind had already been made up. She no longer had an idea where she was going or even where she was, directions where needed preferably in the form of a map. Her head was pounding. A hundred hammers beating into her skull. Every limb and muscle felt useless. Despite this, she ignored her body's warnings.

Her eyes found a butcher stand where huge slabs of meat hung up on racks, or what she guessed was meat, flies had already claimed them. It was impossible to tell what lurked beneath the thousands of small black dots. As an irate butcher slapped a meat slab the flies disbanded revealing that it had already spoiled and was going brown and in some spots a sickly green. The flies quickly lunged back onto the rotting corpse with no fear of the man's angry hand. The butcher looked even dirtier than the meat; his body so coated with dirt and sweat as though he had not bathed in his entire existence. If she was going to get food here it was not going to be from him.

The market was infested with dozens of stands manned by those with plastered grins awaiting exchanges. Each stand was sheltered from the sun by flimsy tarps. The world was alive with hordes of consumers. Bright apples and tomatoes sat in wooden crates. Barrels of many different drinks were stacked together behind counters. Voices were loud with either frustration or joy. Bread loafs stale and fresh were set out to entice.

The only stand that garnered very little attention and business was an herb stand. Clay hanging bowls were engorged with precious greens. A small and delicate woman with bug eyes and frizzy grey hair stood unhappily behind the counter. Her stiff brown dress had moth riddled holes.

Rochelle hesitantly approached the woman who smiled happily seeing her potential customer and clasped her hands together.

"What can I get for you sweetheart? I have herbs for cooking and healing mostly."

"Actually, I wanted to know if you knew where I could find a map." Instantly, she felt guilty for getting the woman's hopes up as she spoke the words with an apology mingled into them.

"A map she says." The woman said to herself. "She comes to me for a map." She slammed her fist down on the wooden countertop. "I don't know where any damn map is, now off with you!" More curses were muttered under her breath and Rochelle took that as her cue to leave.

"I'm sorry." Rochelle murmured.

Well that did not work.

Those that had witnessed that brief interaction snickered and she could not help but to roll her eyes. Someone tapped lightly on her shoulder and she whirled around to see a middle aged black man and woman. The woman's tan dress sleeves were puffy and bulbous tied over or sewn by a black string that wrapped around the middle. The top cut off at a v shape and a flowing dark brown dress lay beneath.