Gauvain rubbed the back of his hand across his forehead, looking up and blinking a few times as drops of water spattered across his face. …Well. That was… fitting, then. He sighed softly, adjusting the grip on his shovel, and glanced over at his uncle, who hadn’t paused in his work.
“D’you think this is enough, then?” he murmured. No response. “Lloyd?” His uncle stopped, looking over the pit they’d dug into the earth as if he hadn’t seen it before. He nodded after a few moments. Gauvain clambered out onto more level ground, extending a hand back down. Lloyd accepted the assistance out, and both men regarded their work in silence for several minutes.
Gauvain moved over to the first shrouded figure, nodding to his uncle. They each took one end of the cloth, carefully lifting the body and then lowering it into the ground.
“Thayers,” he said, his voice ringing strangely clear in the damp air, “y’are from the earth.” They lifted the next figure, and lowered it beside the first. “An as y’came from it, y’shall return.” Third figure. “We’ll remember ye in this life.” Fourth figure. “Remember us in the one t’come.” Fifth, and—thank the gods—for now the last. Lloyd nodded to his nephew before moving to stand beside his daughters.
Gauvain returned the nod, then turned his back to them and closed his eyes. He listened to the sound of the rain hitting the trees, the earth. He could smell pine, rich soil, and just a hint of decay. He felt the bit of Earth he carried, let it seep down into the ground where it found seeds and roots, and called to them. The ground shifted, vines slowly easing forth from the damp earth and half-nudging, half-dragging it into the large grave. There was a rhythm to it, to everything. It was… It was like a song just out of the range of hearing. If only he could do more than pluck out a few faltering notes…
He started at Lloyd’s hand on his shoulder, blinking a few times as he took his bearings. There was a tree before him, now, large and solid. Gauvain shuddered once. He was soaked through, freezing. A glance over his shoulder revealed that his cousins were gone.
“How long was I…?” Gauvain asked.
“Few hours.” Lloyd was succinct even at the best of times.
Gauvain looked up at the tree, letting out a low whistle. “I think Da’ helped.”
“Could be.” Lloyd gave Gauvain’s shoulder a squeeze. “Come inside; ye’ll catch sick.”
Gauvain nodded. “Jus’ need t’finish it, aye?”
Lloyd nodded, turning to trudge back towards the small cabin occupied by what remained of his family. “Be quick, then.”
Gauvain wiped strands of wet hair back out of his face, regarding the tree and then the ground beneath it solemnly for a moment. “Death is no’ forever,” he murmured, and then turned to follow his uncle.
