Limestone Heron Excerpt (Subject to Change)

Thundering in the distance signaled the first, beautiful rain of autumn. As a cold breeze swept through the village of Absolution, it lifted the dark robes of its beloved father, mussing his once-neat, dark brown hair. He clutched the robes close in his hand, shivering and turning dark green eyes towards the rolling clouds.

The way the grass hissed with the wind, the way the leaves clattered from the distant woods. All of it felt almost nostalgic, as they’d not seen weather like this in months. It would be good for the farmers, save for the potential of losing crops to frostbite, should the change come all at once. A small price for rain.

Raymond lifted his free hand and pressed open a heavy, oak door which led into the church. The nave was wide and empty, and although it protected from the breeze, the stone walls ensured this room was chilled and damp for the moment. The pews creaked in protest at the turn in weather, unusually loud thanks to the echo of the building. Father Raymond assured them with gentle strokes in passing—he’d contact the woodsman soon and ensure the pews were tended to.

The corridor leading to his personal study was even colder. Although grateful for his robes, Raymond found himself acutely aware of the biting chill against his cheeks. Perhaps a scarf would help. Gloves.

Absolution was a village of survivors. Generations ago, they’d escaped persecution and found this little cradle of life tucked within a valley. With the exception of the odd traveling trader, they rarely saw people outside the town, yet they were self-sufficient, raising chickens and growing crops. Everyone knew one another, and they had all they needed. Besides, those on the outside were difficult to bond with. They didn’t understand the culture of the village. The values.