Dill removed the mask, cowhide coated with beeswax and tightly sewn, the tip of the beak plated with a layer of silver to detect poison, and the curved beak was stuffed with all kinds of aromatic herbs to purify the air, which had to be sterilized with boiling water every time it was used. It was with this mask that Mr. Cole once walked between life and death to bring relief to the world.
Plague doctors appeared in the place where death spread, they used strange beak mask to hide the real faces, and black coats like mourning crows, people were afraid of them, afraid of them, as if the God of Death.
The white goose curiously pecked the mask with its beak; the snow-white red beak and the black crow's beak presented a strong contrast.
Dill could only pray to the heavens that Mr. Cole had sterilized his mask with boiling water after using it for the last time.
She took a deep breath and dug her hand into the beak.
Thankfully, there were no used herbs inside, just a thin, seemingly paper roll that Dill tentatively touched and finally pinched out with her fingers.
It was a piece of paper all right; the untidy edges looked like they had been caused by a hasty tear from a book.
Dill swallowed hard as she unfolded the paper.
"What are you doing here, child?"
Mrs. Cole, who had just finished herding the cattle, followed Lily's words to find her and saw the young girl standing motionless in the room, and in the air was the sound of someone's heavy breathing.
She called out a few times, and her back finally turned.
"Mrs. Cole, I have something very important to tell you."
As the sun began to set and the glass windows of the church were gilded with a searing coppery red, both angels and witches were tortured and punished as if they were in the red flames.
Almost everyone in the sanctuary was gathered; from the haughty Sir Elder to the terrified Plebeian couple, the dark-faced exotic, and even the black-robed alarmists.
They prayed reverently to the Most High God, amidst fragrant beeswax and incense, whilst forming a wall from which no one would be allowed to escape.
The air was unusually quiet, the dark clouds gathering before a storm, a heavy atmosphere that seemed to be ready to condense at any moment.
The mayor was so anxious that he didn't even feel like sitting down.
"There is still one missing."
As soon as the words fell, the door of the sanctuary was pushed open again, and silver knights gilded with a copper-gold sunset came late to this dinner.
Dill looked up and locked eyes with Mucha at almost the same time.
"Let's get started then."
One of the tall, loud-voiced alarmists couldn't wait, even ignoring the town mayor's shocked face. Dill remembered that the other man's name was Shulk and that he was the leader of the alarm bellmen, a sort of police captain of sorts.
"With the victimization of one of our members last night, I demand that the ancient ceremony of Jones Town be performed immediately in the presence of the Most High God to appoint a "guide" into the forest to look for signs of the werewolf."
Here it comes!
Dill's hands under the dining table couldn't help but clench.
"The "guide" must be a townsman with a karmic connection to the werewolves, who will don a red cloak and wander into the forest for a night to quell the werewolves' wrath with his blood."