figuring it out...

the first year of the plagues the priests said it was god's divine punishment. they claimed it was a test of our faith and that those who succumbed were sinners. the second year the priest in our village burned down the church where the sick were being taken care of and ran into the woods yelling about demons coming for his soul.

they found his twisted body two weeks later, bloated and showing the tell-tale signs of sickness, neck at an unnatural angle from his fall down a small cliff.

slowly we returned to the old ways of our ancestors. the priest's god had not saved him and was by no means a mercy or comfort to us. the old gods, spirits, and creatures of lore were more certain and benevolent by far.

by the third year, when the spring rains brought with them news of yet more plague spreading, we barricaded the road and did not allow strangers into our village. we had fared better than most the previous years, but we refused to take any chances. while the rest of the world slowly died, we tried our hardest to persevere.