Alleluia alleluia, glory to Thee, o God.
Alleluia alleluia, glory to Thee, o God. A dark cry had been heard from the quarry in the early hours, and Isidore had been given the task of investigating. There were said to be demons in the caves there, and Isidore had slain two before then. He told no one of the bears, as the demons had been bears malformed perhaps by the work of Satan, but still bears all the same. Mountains such as those only could be delivered by God all but pierced the sky. Isidore trudged along the bank of the river, crushing icy snow beneath his fur-wrapped boots. His rifle bumped against his back with every heavy step as the piercing wind cut through him. His beard, much admired by his village’s priest, had grown filled with ice. His jacket and cloak similarly carried a layer of frost. A test by the Almighty, he thought. My faith, shaken by those beasts, must needs be strengthened. He stopped beside the river. Through the ice he could see some of the fluctuating water, but it seemed darker than nigh