A few steps away from the remaining parts of the village, Koyote found herself wandering towards distant structures. Such were crafted out of a fine stone, smooth at the sides and mostly rectangular, shaping up a few pillars here and there, resembling the remnants of houses or stairs towards entrances.
It was a tradition in a few Haran villages, especially ones facing tragedies. It is not necessarily uncommon for something bad to occur, be it, inclining a deity's wrath or underestimating the power of natural circumstances. It could also be beastmen, trying to attack what belongs to the people. It rarely comes from a human.
The memory of past events is kept under this temple-like light. Recreations of things that once belonged to the people are either left above the ground or in the grave. In Koyote's village, they resembled the buildings that were unfortunately burnt down. It was the man and a few passing Harans who took the initiative and symbolically moved what once was into a separate part of the stretching deserts, with the plateaus strung within the shadow.
Today was a little different, however. Koyote rarely visited her parents' graves, but when she did, it was just her and the night, quietly staring back. On this particular day, she sat down right after passing through a cobbled gate, with a little, precious child, finding itself atop her lap.
He reached his hands out, gripping the invisible, and squealing from time to time. A smile didn't disappear from his small face, and his dark hair somehow reflected the sunlight. Koyote only tipped her hat. Much like any other day, it was rather hot, but a place like this especially stood in the open.
It made sense too, and much with her request. Dakarai promised to bury the bodies where the sun would always shine down on them. Maybe it was some belief they held onto, but otherwise, it'd be just symbolic.
Dakarai seemed strangely up to the task. She recalled, in those quieter days, that he'd be the one making sure that the legacy of the people here was remembered. When he couldn't be by her side to support her, he did so for everything else in the village. It suddenly stopped taking him hours to bring back food, and he'd simply step back and have it in his hands again.
It must've been the kindness he showed this world. Working tirelessly, despite the grief gripping his heart. She too, trusted that possibility. Nothing else in the world seemed to say otherwise.
She turned forward, facing the grave again. A brown cross stood in the middle, grown out of nothing in particular, covering her face with a small shadow. She didn't mind, however. Her expression found itself focused on her child, who playfully stepped off her lap and wandered towards the small patch of dirt right beside the object.
"Careful, Equinoxe," she muttered, blinking a few times. "You don't want to disturb Grandpa and Grandma, okay?"
The child stopped crawling, looked back, and laughed. She couldn't help but smile. What was taken away by nature had come back as a blessing.
A kid she'd raise with her very own hands. Despite the tragedies, despite the circumstances. Even if she was to do it alone, she swore she'd make it right.
Koyote blinked a few times, before breathing out. Footsteps sounded from the left, and soon came the other resident of the village, bearing a thin, green coat. She turned, firstly spotting the dome of the library in the distance, with all its lights turned off and windows letting the sun in. Then, she focused on the figure.
Dakarai beamed, as he usually did, with his hands behind his back, and eyes drifting towards Equinoxe.
"Are you not afraid that he'd do something?"
YOU ARE READING
Reaper's Crown
Fantasy[ATLAS GRANDEUR - Book Three] "Take the Morians to Galliath," announced Bancho. Heading after traces and footsteps, the Klakunhoi finally make their way out of the grim, unknown caves and into the land of Lignoria, vowing to chase after the simplest...
