The bell tolled once.

The Plague Dr. adjusted his mask, the scent of cloves thick in his beak. He didn't fear the fever; he feared the silence. He entered the cottage to find a child playing among the ghosts of her family.

She didn't scream at his bird-face. She reached out, touching the cold leather of his snout. "Why do you wear a beak if you cannot fly” - Plague Dr. knelt, his heavy robes pooling like ink. "To carry the heavy smells away," he whispered.

He handed her a pouch of dried orange peel and led her into the sunlight, a grim monster saving a single spark from the ash.

The Plague Dr “Black Death Doubloon” 

1oz .999 fine silver