DAUÐALOGN [WREN/LUCAS]
The forest was quiet around them, the soft flutter of leaves and the distant, eerie birdsong tethering him to it. “Shh, shh.” The death tremors, the body fighting for its life as the light slowly faded from her eyes. He loved her.
Even so, the tears surprised him, one of them hitting her already-wet cheek; his face blank despite them. It was a physical response, he knew, but it didn’t bother him. Maybe there was hope for them yet. “Y’know it’s a real fuckin’ day when we both cry,” he muttered, smiling down at her as he watched blood seep out from between her lips.
He waited for a while, Wren in his arms, his fingers caressing her still-warm cheek. Her chest was still, his knife still lodged in it.
They would have to find a shovel before the final journey.
He hadn’t stopped digging until he found the corpse of her girlfriend. His fingers had dirt beneath the nails that looked as if it would take a decade to scrape out, so he cleaned his fingers as best as he could before he closed Wren’s eyes.
Had laid her down with care.
Had patted the dirt down over their grave.
The sun was still out, hanging in the sky a steady giant. He closed his eyes, and pictured the rays making her hair shine silver in their light.
