Clove & Moose 15: The Stone Statues

Clove and Moose is a serial fiction story. While there is an overarching plot, each episode can be enjoyed on its own without reading what came before. However, if you want to get caught up, click one of the buttons below.

Previously, on Clove & Moose: After the mysterious Cataclysm dried up the earth and its magic, Clove and her cat Moose travelled to find and repair pools of corrupted magic left behind in the Cataclysm’s wake. Along the way, she has picked up three travelling companions: Marissa, Jasper, and his trusty horse Miss Delilah.

“Foggy, isn’t it?” Marissa said.

She and Clove were huddled in the back of the wagon, a tarp forming a makeshift roof to keep the worst of the moisture off. They could only see a sliver of the world sliding mist behind them at the rear of the wagon, and what was visible of that was shrouded in a heavy fog. 

Moose laid on Clove’s lap, curled into a perfect circle with one paw covering his nose. He wasn’t a fan of the damp weather, and Clove huddled protectively around him as though she could protect him from the fog.

She felt bad for Jasper who was stuck outside driving the wagon, no matter the weather. They didn’t travel if things were too bad, but it didn’t seem fair. Maybe she should ask him to teach her to drive the wagon so he could get a break.

Though there may not be much point. By their best reckoning, they were just a few weeks away from Bone Gorge. Everywhere they went these days, people were talking about the immense bones, the miraculous things they’d seen or that they hoped to see. Clove didn’t know what to believe amongst all the conflicting stories. She did know it was the point where she was probably going to have to say goodbye to her travelling companions.

As she stared out the back of the wagon, a swirl of wind opened a gap in the fog through which she saw a figure. 

“Hey, is that a person back there?”

Marissa sat up and peered closer. “Looks like it.”

Clove rapped on the front of the wagon for Jasper. “Stop, there’s someone back there!”

“Not a person,” he said, but the wagon began to slow. Clove and Marissa exchanged a glance at the ominous phrase, but Jasper didn’t sound distraught.

As the wagon came to a stop, they both hopped to the ground, Moose perched on Clove’s shoulder. “What do you mean by ‘not a person’?” she asked Jasper as he climbed down from the driver’s seat.

“It’s a statue. I wasn’t sure at first, but I could see the moss growing on it.”

“What’s a statue doing way out here?” Marissa asked. 

Clove’s vision narrowed. “I should have known. I should have realized. The fog has an orange tint to it. It’s happening again.” “Ohh,” Marissa said, “I thought it was just the sunset, but you’re right…”

“Do we need to backtrack?” Jasper asked.

“Should be near to that statue, I would think,” Marissa said. “Let’s go check it out.”

Clove barely heard them over the pounding of her heart. She willed her feet to follow but she was suddenly dizzy, her breath sounding loud in her ears, her fingers and toes going numb. She tried to take a step and almost stumbled. Moose jumped to the ground and headbutted her firmly in the leg.

It was happening again. Human statues. People turning to stone. It was all happening again.

She sat down, landing hard on the wet road, not caring about the mud, and put her head between her knees in the hopes her vision would clear. Moose pushed his head into her hand and she petted him, focusing on the softness of his fur under her hand and trying to count her breaths until they slowed to their usual rhythm.

“Clove?” Footsteps came running back toward her. “I thought you were right behind us. What’s wrong?”

“Sorry,” Clove answered, struggling to stand up, “I’m fine.”

“No, obviously you’re not. Here.” Marissa took one of her arms to stop her from keeling over. “Let’s get you back to the wagon.”

Jasper grasped her other arm and the two guided her to a seat at the back of the wagon. She hadn’t been sitting for three seconds when Moose hopped onto her lap and bumped his head on her face.

“Thanks buddy,” she said, still struggling to get her bearings. “I’m okay now.”

“Are you though?” Marissa was insistent. “Because it kind of looked like you were going to pass out.”

“It kind of felt like it,” Clove admitted. “I just got really overwhelmed there for a second.”

“Panic attack,” Jasper said. “I’ve been there.”

“You have?” Clove was surprised. Jasper seemed like the strong stoic type who’d never worried a day in his life.

He nodded. “Bad ones, when I was younger.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. 

“It’s okay. Better now. Therapy.” He gave her a significant glance. “Talking helped.”

“I didn’t know you got them,” Marissa said, turning the conversation back to Clove. “Did something specific bring it on?”

Clove did not want to talk about it. But maybe Jasper was right. And maybe the fear squeezing her heart would loosen its grip a bit if she shared the burden.

“I’ve seen this before. Right after the Cataclysm, corrupted magic appeared in our town square. It turned anyone who touched it to stone. Arthur–my fiance–”

“Fiance?” Marissa interrupted. “You’re engaged?”

“Not the time,” Jasper muttered.

“Not any more.” Clove pulled her ring out from where it hung on a chain under her shirt. “He was trying to save someone who got caught in the magic and it got him too.”

“I’m so sorry.” Marissa sat beside her and wrapped one arm around her in a hug. 

“I couldn’t save him.” Tears ran down Clove’s face. She hadn’t told the story before. She hadn’t realized how difficult it would be. “I figured out a spell, a way to stop the magic from spreading, and I thought it would undo everything, but it didn’t. They’re all still there. They’re all still statues. I couldn’t save him.”

“I’m sorry, Clove,” Jasper said, squeezing her shoulder on the opposite side from where Marissa sat. Moose rubbed his face on her chin, startling a small laugh out of her.

She let herself sit in their comfort for a moment, then she wiped at her eyes. “It’s okay. I mean, it’s not, but it’s been a year. I’m coping. I just–I saw the statues and it made me remember–when he turned, how it looked–”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” Marissa soothed. “It’s okay.”

“Anyway. I know how to do it now,” she said, scooping Moose into her arms and standing up. “I know how to save these people.”

“I’m not sure they are people,” Jasper said. He and Marissa trailed behind her as she approached the statue. “We got a quick look around, and unless these woods were already full of centaurs and crocodiles, I don’t think these statues started out as living beings.”

"Huh.” Clove came to a stop as she reached the affected area. “I see what you mean.”

The swirling orange of the corrupted magic was bright here, and within its reach there was a menagerie of statues. People, yes, and regular woodland creatures: squirrels and racoons, deer and rabbits; but also the exotic: crocodiles and tigers; and even the mythological: centaurs and sphinxes. 

“Just… spontaneous statues, then?” Marissa asked.

“I guess we’ll find out.” Clove passed Moose to her and crouched down by the pool of magic. She held her crystal and spoke the familiar words of the spell, reminding herself that it would work. She knew how to do it. This wasn’t going to be like before. 

The magic changed colour and shrank away towards its centre. As it did, the statues cracked and crumbled, limbs and head tumbling to the ground and fading away to dust. 

“Just statues, I guess,” Clove said, laughing shakily. “All that panic over nothing.”

“Hey,” Marissa said, shoving Moose back at her. “It’s not nothing. You’ve had trauma. Snuggle this cat until you feel better.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Clove obeyed her orders, holding Moose close until they were back at the wagon. Miss Delilah nickered softly as Jasper rubbed her neck. “Thanks for your help today. It was nice to be able to talk about it.”

“Of course,” Marissa said, settling beside her in the back of the wagon. “That’s what friends are for.”

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Hey, if you enjoy my writing, you might want to check out my short story "Feathers and Wax", recently published in the anthology Through the Portal: Tales from a Hopeful Dystopia. It's "a collection that explores strange new terrains and startling social constructs, quiet morphing landscapes, dark and terrifying warnings, lush newly-told folk and fairy tales."

My story features:
🐝 A bicycling beekeeper
🤝 Community and cooperation in a post-environmental-collapse society
📻 Listening to the radio in the hopes of hearing That One Song
🤑 Billionaires getting their comeuppance
☀️ Flying too close to the sun

If you like any of those things, you should check it out!

Katie Conrad is a speculative fiction writer living in Halifax, Nova Scotia. You can find her on bluesky, instagram, and tumblr.