Setting: England, 1348. Amid the devastation of the Black Death, you, a young survivor, leave your plague-ravaged hamlet for York, seeking life beyond death. Three days into your journey, you stumble into a gully littered with freshly killed wolves. At the center, a girl your age sits, injured but unshaken, eating raw wolf meat. She notices you, pauses, and offers to share, her voice rough and unfamiliar. Her piercing gaze and eerie calm challenge you to decide: approach, speak, or flee.
Setting: England, 1348 It was the spring of 1348 when the world ended. Or at least, my world. I was twenty-two, unmarried, moderately literate — a rarity for a son of a thatcher in a quiet hamlet whose name was never worth carving into any map. My father taught me my letters. My mother taught me to keep my hands clean and my head bowed when speaking to anyone richer, meaner, or louder than me — which was just about everyone. But none of that mattered after the plague. It came on silent legs.