The night was cold and breezy, but he did not feel any of it. In fact, it was considerably stuffy for him as he walked along the path towards the next town with his garments on. The only tool he brought along with him was the cane he found in the last village. It allowed him to examine a patient without coming into direct contact.

As a strong gust of wind blows and the moonlight shines upon him, it revealed a mask and a light, waxed, black overcoat. The mask held two distinct features, which were a protruding beak and two eye openings that were sealed with two individual pieces of glass while the black overcoat had nothing worthy of notice. Although the mask made it hard to breathe in the air around, it was a price worth paying to keep the plague away.

He walked on, with two gloved hands by his side. His left held the only cane he had, and the right held a sack full of herbs to later renew the used herbs stuffed in his mask's beak. The sack wasn't overly large to the point where it would hinder his movements, but it could be held within the palm of one's hand. The herbs filtered any unwanted air and dirt, leaving behind clean but fresh smelling air.

Soon, he saw the place he was heading to. It was an unnamed village, just like all the others. It didn't look any different too, with a church standing in the middle as rows of houses surrounded it. There was a bazaar, which was once busy with merchants and customers, located beside one side of the church, while the other was a cemetery. Normally, a cemetery wouldn't be a place where crowds formed, but in these times, people crowding in cemeteries were common sight, since none can leave their deceased loved ones without any unpaid remorse.

Piles of corpses stacked up in the middle of the deathly place. There was a sudden icy coldness upon his back as he entered the cemetery, more from the surrounding glares than the atmosphere of the place itself. Most of the children have already left at the sight of his deathly aura which could rival even the cemetery's atmosphere, and the ones who were left were mostly the elderly who had not much time left and the large, brawny men who were determined to stand their ground against the incarnation of death itself.

"Wha're ye doin' er'?" One of the muscular man moved in to block the doctor's way. Others followed, causing the path leading to the sick uncrossable.

"No one needs yer'."

"Leav' us, death."

This was a common occurence. He had already accepted it. Before he started his journey, before he left his village, before everyone in his village became sick, whenever he saw a plague doctor arrive, his stomach would churn. Not due to the disgusting stains dried up on his or her overcoat, but the mere presence of the doctors themselves made him feel a certain kind of fear. The fear of the unknown, the fear of being vulnerable, the fear of death itself.

Thus, it was understandable why the villagers despise plague doctors. Whenever one came, it signified the death of a loved one; whenever one arrived, it signified the presence of death itself. Those who do not understand cower, but those who do always end up failing to get proper medical education and being a lowly scum, scamming the innocent for their money with their fake cures and surgeries.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Sometimes, the doctor himself liked to think that scumlike humans should get infected and die quickly, but with his teachings and virtues deeply drilled into him, he would always, sooner or later, find himself turning back to his work and wishing the opposite of what he liked to think about. Because. what use is a plague doctor if not to cure the plague itself?

As he stood still, he looked up for the first time after entering the village, staring back into the muscle man's gaze. Like the villagers of the man's village, the man was afraid as well, but he was putting up a brave front in order to inspire morale among his men, to not lose hope. This reminded him of the time when his mother got sick. Even though after a few days she found out the plague has touched her, she never losed the determined, cheerful look she had. Day by day, the doctor's mother grew weaker and weaker, until the mother could no longer eat with her own hands and could not walk anymore. Still, she held the cheerful and determined smile whenever he visited her at the hospital.

Just like that time the doctor was with his mother, the muscle man's gaze held a sort of determination not dissimilar to the doctor's mother. It would inspire, give hope and raise the morale of his village, despite all the death occuring and surrounding them. Even though fear was ever present, the muscle man was clearly ready to get into a one-on-one showdown with the plague. With these evidences, the doctor was able to confirm the man was actually the leader of the village, a chief, although still too young.

"Kai, let 'im through," a sickly, old voice sounded out from behind the barricade of men. The men, who were originally blocking the path, one by one gave way to the sound's source, revealing an old man in a straw hat. The old man walked towards the doctor and before his son could do anything else, pushed his son aside. The doctor gave a respecting nod to the former chief, who led him towards an area cleared just to house the excess amount of patients.

Groans, coughs and moans resounded throughout the area. Not one bit of space was spared from the cries of terror and wailing of fear at the sight of the doctor's mask. The only reason they did not immediately flee the scene was due to their deteriorating physiology. Swellings of various parts of their body made it impossible for the patients to move without pain erupting from every part of their body. This symptom was one of the main factors as to why the plague was known as the 'bubonic plague'.

"Can you help them?" the sickly old man coughed at the end of his question. It seemed like his time was nearly up, as there were various wounds around his upper arms and legs.

Again, the doctor gave a nod. He went and examined the first patient, before continuing with the second, the third and so forth. After about what seemed like an eternity in hell with the wails and moans, the doctor came back to the path he entered from and sought for the old man. Expectation could be seen in the old man's eyes, but they weren't good expectations, only the sorrow and fear for the infected.

The doctor looked at the old man for a while, as if participating in a staring contest with the former chief. Then, after tens of seconds of staring, he reached into his herb sack and withdrew a dozen kind of herbs. Before long, the doctor spoke in a raspy voice.

"Grind these leaves and boil it in clean water, this will relieve the pain and sufferings of the victims. Don't let anyone close to the infected without wearing masks, and if you do near one, do not come into direct contact," the doctor finished with a fitful cough.

He then turned and started to walk away when the chief spoke to him in a low voice. "Has god's wrath touched your soul as well, death?" The doctor stopped dead in his tracks, thinking for a moment before replying,

"Cleanse the city of rats and fleas, or god's wrath will kill us all," after answering cryptically, the plague doctor left the village, heading towards the next unfortunate village.