"So what choice did Auntie Primleigh have but to scale those mountains after the earthquake?" Isabelline tucked another candied almond into her cheek, offering one to the priest in front of her. "If that goat hadn't cursed her— or if it had at least waited a month—"

"Yes, I know the story behind this tradition, young Miss." Father Kellum politely declined the almond offer with a hand. "It is a well known event, especially for someone in my position."

Isabelline's shoulders sank.

"Are you sure?"

"Quite so." The priest gestured towards the crowd gathering further away in the graveyard. "Besides, there are other matters to attend to at the moment."

Another opportunity appeared before Isabelline, and she hurried after Kellum who'd already begun walking, which proved more difficult than she would have preferred. Not only had she filled her regular bag with a bundle of ginger roots, a couple of lemons as well as packets of teas, cinnamon, cardamom, cloves and nutmeg, but she'd also once again proven Fawn right as she'd had to bring out additional cloth bags to carry the bottles of ciders and wines, not to mention the scented candles and oils she'd stumbled upon on her way.

"Say, I was meaning to ask, if it's not too rude of me... if there's any chance I could bring a ribcage with me back home?" She had to pause to catch her breath. "I've always wanted to make an Unclaimed basket to keep in my window, but as I understand it the town often wants them returned to the catacombs?"

Kellum smiled softly at that, and to Isabelline's surprise he gave her a small nod.

"I believe it could be arranged, actually." He looked out over the non crowded part of the graveyard. "There are many Unclaimed graves that will be unburied next year so there won't be a shortage."

"Oh?" Isabelline adjusted the bags' positions. "Why so many?"

"A lot of lives were lost around those twenty-something years ago, after all." The priest somberly placed a hand against his heart. "When that lung disease epidemic was at its worst."

A lump formed in Isabelline's throat, and she looked down at her feet.

"Right... It's been that long already."

"Though I suspect many ribcages will be damaged because of it. The excruciating coughs all those poor souls had to endure often fractured more than one rib."

"Mhmm." Isabelline's grip around the heavy bags tightened. "I'm aware."

Her mood remained low as she navigated between gravestones to find Maeve leaning against the stone fence, but a wrinkle in the other girl's nose activated her affinity to bickering again.

"You smell like a spice rack," Maeve noted, and gave the multiple bags a look of disapproval. "And I thought you said only small things?"

"The candles just smelled so good. Had to buy two with orange and cedar wood in case they sell out before we're done." She held out the bag of almonds to offer Maeve one, but her generosity was once again declined.

"Looks like it's about to begin." Maeve nodded towards the crowd. "Should we get a better look?"

Isabelline gave the gathering a glance of indifference.

"Digging old Fenwick up is probably gonna include an extra fancy speech and that might take a while. Being in the midst of all that sounds exhausting."

"Agreed."

So they both ended up resting against the fence, with Isabelline taking more interest in the graveyard's design rather than the event itself.

"Think that's the grim?" she asked through a mouthful of raisins from a new bag and pointed at two statues on each side of a crypt, resembling some bigger kind of cat with large wings. "What it looks like, I mean. Well, the wings may or may not be an artistic misrepresentation."

"I don't think that's relevant to the essay."

"Since we're stuck here we might as well pay attention to details. Would have been easier if Fawn had been here, as she rightfully should have been, because then we could've had sketches of the whole thing to show off."

"I see a shovel," Maeve then pointed out and Isabelline moved away from the fence to get a better look.

"The fancy one to break ground it looks like, yeah."

"Shall we, then?"

Isabelline stored a raisin in her other cheek before joining Maeve's side, but her discomfort grew the closer they got. Was it because of the noisy crowd or unwelcome physical touches, or was it something darker?

She looked around. It was such a big unburial, there shouldn't be any mistake. A grim had no business showing up so why was she feeling so cold? Unlike chilly Maeve she'd actually dressed for the weather.

Squinting, she investigated the gravestone from a distance just to be sure. It was indeed well past a normal unburial date, so nothing strange there.

"So, I'm not that well read on this faith." Maeve leaned in so Isabelline could hear better. "But aren't there some kind of birds tagging along with the guardian sometimes?"

Isabelline nodded.

"Night ravens. Big and eerie-looking, and they parrot the last words of the souls laid to rest on their grounds. It was actually a source of—"

"That's enough, thank you," Maeve interrupted her before pointing upwards. "Would that be them, then?"

Isabelline looked skywards while a chill searched its way along her spine.

"Yes," she mouthed as large, empty eyed ravens stared back at her from the leafless branches above. "Those are them."

The crowd had drowned their voices out. No one had noticed them yet except Maeve who'd likely been too disinterested to look at the grave.

"So doesn't that mean—?"

"Yes!" Isabelline's eyes darted around. It was there wasn't it? It had to be or the night ravens would not have appeared, but why? Nothing was wrong with the grave. It was long past its unburial date.

Her breath hitched as she turned her head towards the three grim statues.

It was wrong. She would have reacted to the asymmetry before otherwise. There had only been two of them, and they had both been made of stone. Not fur, or skin, or artistically accurate wings, or a head that slowly followed the movements of the crowd.

"Everyone get away from the grave!" she screamed before elbowing her way forward, tackling the man with the shovel with the full weight of her body before kicking the dropped tool as far away from the grave as she could.

"Young Miss, what do you think you're doing?" Father Kellum turned to her with a far more effective reproachful stare than headmistress Dayrit could ever conjure. "This is a sacred ritual, and—"

"And about to go horribly wrong!" Isabelline yelled even louder while pointing towards the crypt. "Because that grim in the middle is not a statue!"

What had she expected? As soon as one person confirmed her claims and screamed while making their way towards the gates the rest followed suit and both Isabelline and Maeve had to dash out of the way before getting trampled.

"Great." Maeve gestured with her arms at the suddenly empty space in front of them, save for a confused priest. "What are we gonna write about now?"

"Oh, I think there might be a whole lot to write about here, Stuffy." Isabelline stared at the untouched grave, carefully moving forward while taking out one of her cloth bags. "Because why—"

"There you are!" Kapani called out to them, still from the safety of the graveyard gates. "What are you still doing there!? Hurry up!"

"Don't worry." Isabelline leaned down to slide the shovel head into the bag before tying the handles around it. "No one's threatening the grave now so it'll go away soon."

"But we have absolutely no reason to stay!"

"We still have an essay to write, and I believe it'll be one for the books!" Isabelline yelled back before turning to Kellum again. "Now, can we be certain this is the right grave, Father? The grim would not let anyone switch places on gravestones but maybe there's been a mistake from the beginning?"

"I have worked at this sanctuary for over thirty years." Kellum raised his chin. "I was here when Mr. Fenwick was buried, and I know these graves well. Even if I didn't, there are records to prove his location."

Maeve joined Isabelline's side, frowning down at the gravestone.

"So, what does that mean? Someone's dug him up already, somehow?"

"It would have been done in impressive secrecy if so, and without the grim's interference." Kellum narrowed his eyes. "That is not my greatest concern, however."

Maeve studied his and Isabelline's puzzled looks, scrunching her nose again.

"And what is?"

"If headmaster Fenwick had remained in his grave, the grim should not have reacted to an unburial this late in his death," Isabelline continued, with an affirmative nod from the priest. "Which means that yes, it is unlikely he's still down there... But the thing is, the grim still reacted. Ready to serve its purpose and protect the dead."

Maeve took a second to process it, and Isabelline used the silence to continue.

"Which means there is a corpse buried here, but it's not Headmaster Fenwick's, and it has not been down there for long."