Hungering Teeth.

II.

FEBRUARY 12th, 1791
SUNDAY MORNING, CHURCH.

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With the first light of dawn creeping through the trees, the crisp morning sun began to warm the chilly air every so slightly, though its grasp was tenuous at best. Agnus fingers ached from the cold as he guided the wagon, holding the reins tight in his grasp.

    Fingers wet with snow, making the grasp slippery—he tightened them again, cursing the unforgiving weather. The horse trotted along steadily, its hooves creating a rhythmic beat against the snow covered road. Many of the townsfolk were already there, bundled up. The rusty hinges screech in protest as they disembarked.

"Oh, there goes Ruby," Mabel announced as Larry helped her get out of the wagon. "Ruby!"

"Ruby, hello!"

"Mabel!" Ruby rushed her way over to Mabel, smiling just as wide.

"Last Sunday, that pecan pie..." Mabel starts. "It was divine. I've been meaning to ask you for the recipe."

"Was it any good?" Ruby asked, her eyebrows furrowing.

Ruby, gently patting her friend's hand. "Oh, it was nothing, really." She reassures, a smile lingering on her lips. "I can give you the recipe, just don't tell anyone. Keep it between us."

Mabel lets out another chuckle in response, clasping her hands together. "I swear, don't worry. It will be our little secret."

Larry stood there, watching as the two conversed. "Mabel, come on dear, let's go inside, it's cold and don't want the seats filling up."

Agnus chuckled, petting their horse, Maurice. "Be a good boy."

The pews are lined with families, the buzz of their hushed tones fades as the pastor takes the pulpit. Agnus' eyes searched for a familiar figure, his heart pounding in anticipation, only to see that they weren't there.

He finally appeared. A smile graced Agnus lips as they locked eyes. Luther's eyes roamed about the sea of people, before they landed on Agnus. He returned their smile, a soft warmth lingering in his chest, spreading through his body to reach even his fingertips.

His father was rambling on, saying something about the Lord and God, but the words were lost on him. His eyes remained firmly on Agnus, his heart giving an odd feeling—a feeling he recognized quite well.

Pastor Burton placed his bible down before clearing his throat.

"Brothers and sisters, today I want to talk about temptation and the strength we must find in our faith to resist the forces that seek to lead us astray. We all face trials in our lives, moments when the path before us is dark and uncertain. The devil is always lurking, waiting for that moment of weakness to plant doubt in our hearts." Pastor Burton's hands gripped the sides of the pulpit, his voice rising slightly.

"But remember, the Lord is our shepherd, guiding us even when the night is darkest. The world may try to pull us away from his light, offering us fleeting pleasures and false promises. But we must remain steadfast, for the road to salvation is narrow, and only those who walk it with unwavering faith will find peace." He continued.

The church was silent, all attention on Pastor Burton as his monologue continued. Even Agnus was listening, nodding as the old man spoke—though in all honesty, they often found themselves distracted whenever Luther was present.

For some odd reason, he was pulled back in. Like he needed to listen. Agnus' mouth dry, somehow the harsh wind outside had never seeped a chill so potent throughout the body. Perhaps the pastor's preachings were to signify the time when they faced temptation themselves. They chewed their lower lip, whispers at the back of their head... Moments inked in wood and rough-shewn flesh.