Heart of Stone (Part III)

III. Chapter 20 | Part 2 - Stone

Instrumental Song: "Cold" by Jorge Méndez

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The human world had been up in arms in the late 1840s; the poor revolted against the rich, and the Council forbade the lycans and werewolves from interfering in human matters. They were guardians of the human world from the supernatural world, but when it came down to humans battling against humans, they were not to intervene.

But the abuse, the slaughter, the mercilessness that humans had against each other baffled Stone's mind. If they only knew of the dangers that lurked in the woods and from the dark corners of their cities, would they still persist in the destruction of themselves and each other?

It was as if their god created their flaws to be more than they could bear, and they took out their pain and suffering on those around them.

The previous years leading up to that day in 1848 had proved challenging on the humans, as their crop harvests yielded devastatingly poor results. Thousands starved to death, and many succumbed to the temptation of immortality that many vampires offered to them—if they were granted immortality at all.

There were several raids on villages and mills, and poor men and women were slaughtered in order to steal their stores of grain.

While out on patrol one day, one such village along the river that bordered the Schwarzwald territory had been hit.

He tried to steer clear of it, but the cry of an infant tore at his heart and paternal instincts. Despite his strong aversion to smoke and fire, he couldn't force himself to pass it by.

Emerging from the evergreen and deciduous trees, their leaves all yellow and gold, he found a scrap of cloth stuck in a bush that he tied around his waist after shifting into his human form, in case he happened to come across another human that was still alive within the blackened compound. As he strained his ears, he realized that it didn't seem likely.

The stone mill was the only structure untouched. As he approached the burnt-down huts huddled together, their tin roofs collapsed in and ash and soot blanketing the earth from the few posts that remained, his senses told him there was not another soul alive within the charred place, aside from the solitary heartbeat that pounded weakly.

Bodies littered the ground. Men, women, and even a few children. At least a dozen of them. All of them slaughtered. All of them staining the earth red as flies and fleshing-eating birds swarmed around them, picking their bones clean.

Two days, he guessed. It had been two days since their lives were taken from them.

Removing the cloth around his waist, he used it to cover his nose and mouth from the lingering stink, relying on his sight and hearing to find the source of the cries.

They were getting weaker, fainter, and when he found the infant buried underneath a pile of rubble, it was already near death.

He remembered in vivid detail how frail the body was. How bony arms, like gnarled roots from trees, projected out of sharp shoulders, and equally unbearably thin legs jutted out from protruding hips and a hallowed belly. Her pale blue eyes reflected the edge of death as she stared up at him without seeing him.

He'd never seen a human baby up close before, never mind handled one so fragile.

He tried to be gentle. Tried to pick her up in such a way that he would inflict the least bit of pressure on her brittle body, but he didn't hold her securely enough and she slipped.

He pushed the memory from his mind.

With his heart in his hands, he took Aubree's small, delicate palms and pressed them to his chest. [I didn't know how to pick her up. I was too gentle and she slipped. I panicked. I tried to catch her, and when I did, I grabbed her too hard and...]