Mirror Image

XXII - Burial

There could be only one way to know for sure.

"Maria..." he whispered, his voice almost lost in the breeze. He closed the locket slowly, bringing it up to his lips and slowly kissing the tarnished metal, "I'm sorry."

Placing the locket down gently on the grass, he rose to his feet, stepping towards the tree. Slipping off his gloves, he dug his nails into the thick bark, and with a few stout tugs the rugged wood came away with a crack. In his hands he now held the crude drawing on a sheet of bark. Turning it over, he began to scratch something new into the smooth, pale underside.

When he had finished, he set the bark down next to the locket and kneeled in the soft grass. Around the base of the tree, where the grass gave way to bare earth, he began to dig. Slowly and methodically, clearing his mind of his reasoning and focusing only on the task at hand, he scooped up great clumps of dry soil and tossed them aside. After several minutes of digging he had carved out a hole about a foot square, and the same in depth.

He took the locket in his hands and held it above the hole. Gently, like lowering a baby into a crib he placed the tarnished pendant in the centre of the depression. Reaching into the pile of disturbed soil he prepared to let it slip through his fingers. He felt it creeping into him; the emotion he tried to conceal, the sadness he had denied himself for so long. With tears meandering along his muzzle he hesitated, flakes of soil dripping from his hand.

Reaching into the hole he flipped the locket open again, his breath catching in his chest when he saw her face again. Cautiously he lifted the rectangular keepsake from the hole, kissing it one more time.

On her lips.

Setting it back down, he closed his eyes as the soil slipped from his hand. Silently, with vision blurred by tears, he continued to shift the soil, not stopping until the grave he had dug had filled completely. He patted the soil as flat as he could manage, before turning to pick up the sheet of bark. Holding it in front of him, he sighed, his chest sinking as he read the words carved by his own hand:

MARIA ROBOTNIK

1946 – 1958

SHE LOVED THIS WORLD

Setting the wood into the dirt, Shadow sat back to admire his handiwork. But a part of him still didn't feel right; something was missing from the proceedings. A memory came to him; Maria used to tell him how on her home world, her people used to wish on a great spirit to care for people after they died. He had always thought the idea of an afterlife sounded ridiculous, but if it was human custom...

He knelt over the grave, closing his eyes and clasping his hands together.

"Umm... Dear Great Spirit," he said, trying to put his own incredulousness to one side, "I wish for you to take the soul of Maria and... look after her, make her happy... keep her safe. I promised to look after the world she loved for her... and I will. I've found someone to help me keep my promise... together we'll make this world right for her. Just... promise me you'll give her everything she missed out on in life."

He opened his eyes again. He honestly didn't know what he expected to happen, but he felt slightly better. But still the fullness of his pain would not release him, and he felt the weight of his final act bearing down on him.

Rising to his feet, he stared at the grave, completely losing his composure. The tears flowed hot and free, matting his fur and clouding his eyes. His sniffled and gasped with stilted breath, unable to keep his sorrow inside any longer. He knew what he had to do; the say the one thing he never got the chance to say.