Shepherd Hunted by Christopher Kincaid

whitewashed stone was pleasantly cool against Timothy’s hand. He rested his cheek on it and closed his eyes. They burned beneath the cool of his eyelids. The sounds of panic grew dim.
    “Oh, my poor boy. Look at what she has done to you!”
    Timothy’s eyelids fluttered. He was on his knees with his cheek still pressed against the whitewash. His blurry gaze slowly focused on a pale face with flat, hazel eyes. Timothy felt a strong hand on his arm.
    “Mother will take care of you. Come.”
    “Evelyn?” Dryness rasped his voice.
    “Come with me, dear. I have been looking all over for you, naughty, dirty boy.”
    Timothy’s ears hummed with shouts, curses, and crying. Fog gripped his mind. “Kit?”
    “Tch. Don’t think of that latrine whore. She isn’t here for you. Your mother is here. She broke her promise to you, I’m sure. You wouldn’t be here otherwise. But it is well. Your momma is here. Soon we can all be together again. Forever. Once sin is gone we can all keep our promises.”
    “Needs to escape,” Timothy said.
    “You just need cleaned. Yes, cleaned. Your momma will take care of you.” Evelyn dragged Timothy to his feet. “Come. Come.”
    Timothy tried to resist, but his muscles refused to work. He hung limp in his mother’s grip. Everything he had done in the last few weeks had been too late. Too late to tell Kit about what happened to her town. Too late to realize what not telling her meant. It was all too late.
    It was too late for him.
    It was too late for anyone.
    At least Kit was safe.
    She had to be safe.
     

Chapter 4
    Where was the fool shepherd?
    Kit wandered down another street. Three days she looked for Timothy. Three days she expected the idiot to wander back to their room with apologies. Maybe she had gone too far with her trick with Trent, but the shepherd deserved it for being wool-brained. He shouldn’t have hid the truth from her. She had suspected what he scrawled, but to actually see it confirmed—that was beside the point. He may have done it out of a misplaced sense of kindness, but that rankled even more…as if she was some doll that couldn’t handle reality! Trent was even worse. The man was lucky he didn’t lose a hand before he fled to whatever that manor was. Funny how Trent didn’t even bother to ask her to join him once the bodies starting piling on the street. Her nose twitched with the black scent of illness, and her ears pushed against her hood. Timothy couldn’t be sick, could he? Her heart pinched. Where are you, Timmy?
    Shouts splintered the silence as Kit rounded a corner. Sister Tera stood on the edge of a crowd surging toward the open gate. Kit chewed her lip. Perhaps the nun knew where Timothy had disappeared to. It was better than wandering around for another day.
    Kit pulled her hood lower and crept along the edge of the street.
    * * *
    Thhkoom.
    Sister Tera winced.
    Screams split the air. Only five days ago, people had screamed with sinful joy in the same streets. Only five days ago, the worst she had had to step around was sicked-up mead.
    She lifted the hem of her habit and stepped over a crimson pool.
    Tera swallowed bile. She had long since lost a year’s worth of meals. Her cheeks were dry. She never realized a person only had so many tears.
    If only the soul stopped crying.
    People ran away from the shattered gate. Mothers lugged limp children. Men dragged wives with faces blackened by the illness.
    Only five days ago Tera had wanted God to punish the town for its sinful festival.
    A man collapsed, crying. He stroked a woman’s black hair. Her eyes stared at the mocking blue sky and open, oozing black ruptures covered her face. “Help us, Sister. Help us! Tell me, what did we do for God to do this to us?”
    Tera didn’t want this. She only wanted people to see their errors.
    Musketfire lanced into the unfortunates still milling by the gate. Soldiers firing on their own people! She left the man to his wife. People surged around her and