Serafina and the Black Cloak - Robert Beatty Page 0,44

all that was left.

As Serafina walked, the dry autumn leaves crunched beneath her feet. Tree branches lay like emaciated dead fingers on the ground among the gravestones and monuments. Many of the monuments had toppled to the earth and lay broken and strewn while others had sunk deep into the ground. A few of the gravestones remained standing, sticking up several feet with spires or crosses, but they were so thickly covered in black and green moss and overgrown with vines that they were nearly indistinguishable from the wretched forest around them.

She read another:

DEATH IS A DEBT TO NATURE DUE,

WHICH I HAVE PAID, AND SO WILL YOU.

In another area, she found row upon row of crosses. An old, weathered plaque explained that these sixty-six crosses were the graves of an entire company of Confederate soldiers who were found dead one night, even though they never fought in any battle.

Farther on, Serafina came to a glade, a little clearing in the trees strangely without bushes, vines, or undergrowth of any kind. This one particular part of the cemetery had not become overgrown, but remained an area of perfect green grass. In the center of the glade stood a stone monument carved into the likeness of a winged angel. Stranger still was the fact that although there was fog all around the glade, there was no fog in the glade itself. Sunlight filtered through the mist and illuminated the angel’s face and hair and wings with a gentle light.

“Now, she’s pretty,” Serafina said as she stepped closer and read the inscription on the pedestal of the statue:

OUR CHARACTER ISN’T DEFINED

BY THE BATTLES WE WIN OR LOSE,

BUT BY THE BATTLES WE DARE TO FIGHT.

Serafina looked up at the angel and studied her. Dappled layers of green and gray moss and lichen covered the angel, and the black streaks of a hundred years of aging stained her long dress and her beautiful face. Dark tears seemed to be falling down her cheeks, as if she had known great sadness. But her wings stretched upward into a fury, her head raised into an apocalyptic cry, as if calling those around her into a great battle. What kind of battle? Serafina wondered. In her right hand, the angel held a sword. The statue itself was made of stone, but the sword appeared to be made of steel, and the metal gleamed as if it was untouched by time. Curious, Serafina slowly reached out her hand and touched the edge of the blade. She gasped and pulled back, blood oozing from her finger. The edge of the sword was razor-sharp.

Then something caught her eye. She felt a pulse of fear. Her muscles tightened, readying themselves to flee. At the edge of the glade, a gravestone had tumbled over where a gnarled old willow tree had fallen and its upturned roots had created a small cave. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw one of the shadows slowly move.

Then she was sure of it.

There was something stirring by the old grave.

Serafina had to remind herself to keep breathing, to stay calm. She felt her chest tightening, her breaths getting shorter and shorter. She wanted to turn and run, but she stayed and watched, her curiosity too strong to overcome.

She crept quietly through the graveyard to get a closer look.

She feared it might be a corpse crawling out of the ground. She imagined its rotting white hands digging through the dirt as it broke the surface. But as she got closer, she realized it wasn’t a corpse at all, but a very living creature.

It was some sort of small wildcat with yellowish-brown fur, black spots and markings, and a long tail. It took her several seconds to figure out that it was a baby mountain lion.

Suddenly, a second lion cub appeared. They charged each other, grabbing each other with their paws and tumbling in play, meowing and howling and swatting each other. They had the most adorable little yellow faces marked with black streaks and spots, and long white kitty whiskers.

Smiling, Serafina watched the cubs play in the bright green grass of the stone angel’s sunlit glade. The fear she had felt just moments before began to melt away. She had always loved kittens.

She crouched down and moved a little closer. One of the cubs spotted her. Its ears perked up, and it stared at her, studying her. She thought that it would run away in fear. But it didn’t. It gave her a raspy meow and ambled