Once Bitten

At the age of five, young Francis was taken on an excursion into the crowded city accompanying his father on a wool sampling expedition. He was very excited to see the crowds and smell the foods, and be with the papa that he cherished so well.

During this outing little Francesco had been bitten by a mongrel dog, and although the nip was slight, and the wound quick healed, he cried all the way home, nursing his afflicted arm.

Over the days to follow the wound suppurated and the little child drew a fever. He took to bed ailing with the tepid inoculation of canine madness.

There was nought to be done. The town’s physician maintained that the boy could not be saved from this situation, and, with taking his fee for this expert consultation, he went on his way, leaving the boy to die a hapless death.

His little arm had blackened and Franco had now become unconscious. He could not take any food, nor feel the fatigue of his sickness. He had slumped into that place between worlds - half in, half out - betwixt earth and Heaven.

Pietro had said that he must go away, but in truth it was not his business that drew him away from his little boy - rather, his fear of what was to come led him swiftly out the door and back into his world - leaving the forlorn Pica alone with her dying son.

She did not mind this as one might think. Pica sought solitude in such times of extreme sadness. She could now have every moment left with little Francis to herself.

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances