What remains

NATHANIEL It's probably best to forget it. Nathaniel just nodded in response to her instructions. He had survived enough Longnights to expect the necessary steps: drag out the half-frozen carcasses, pile them up, set them all ablaze. He hoped Maea had enough dry wood to take care of it all today. Leaving the sheep any longer would be too cruel to Maea, too messy as the flesh defrosted. Nate shed his outer layers and got to work, hoisting the dead animals two at a time, placing them with as much reverence as he could muster into a clear space away from the shed. Fortunately, the cold had preserved them well. Dirty wool and bits of straw stuck to his clothes, but he ignored them. He was glad to see Maea busying herself with the wood. No need to take on the extra burden of lifting the sheep herself. Even if they weren't pets, the loss of such important livestock would weigh on top of all the others losses combined. A crippling burden. Nathaniel was nearly finished, only one more lump left to uncover, when he saw Maea wander past him. She must have brought all the wood she could muster. He busied himself outside for a time, stacking it all, creating the best arrangement to funnel the flames into a bonfire. When he had finished, Maea still had not appeared. Worry prickling at him, he returned to the shed. There he found her, fresh tears rolling down her face, the body of the dog cradled to hers. Nathaniel paused in the doorway, wincing. Glanced at Frost nearby, not quite three-legged but certainly hurting. With a deep breath, Nate approached and knelt in the straw next to Maea. "I'm sorry," he said again, stupidly. His voice was too deep to suitably soften. "Mort will keep him," he offered, something he had been told when he was younger. "He'll be waiting for you when your time comes." Even as he said it, it felt like a hollow sentiment. Something you said when there was nothing else to say. "We should take care of his body," he added, standing up. "We could bury him, if you want to." That way he would always be part of the farm, giving life to new growth. He had buried the last dog he saw die. A deep hole of loamy earth under the sheltering leaves of the wood. Regardless of her decision, Nate left her side to search in his pack for a lighter, and stepped back out of the shed to finish with the sheep. It's probably best to let go.