The sheep bleat uneasily at night as the flock grows thinner with each passing week. Yesterday, I found more lying dead on the slopes, their bellies swollen, much like the bodies in the plague pits.
Old Iancu has been taking care of the carcasses till now, but I can’t rely on him anymore. Today, I burned his corpse along with his cloak and staff. The smell of the smoke still clung to me as I dug a hole for my sheep, wondering… Will I be lying next to them soon?