What remains

NATHANIEL It's probably best to forget it. Nathaniel was patient. He waited until Maea was able to answer, and accepted the answer without judgment. It was her loss; they would give the animals all to the sky if Maea preferred. He followed her outside to the pyre, and there he was content to watch the flames when they finally rose, licking at the underside of a darkening spring sky. Something about the fire filled Nate with peace. Closure — he didn’t envy Maea, couldn’t, but it must be nice to have your endings all tied up like that. Not just trailing along behind you, knotted and filthy… He found it easier to watch the flames than it was to look at her, or the wounded dog. Easier to pretend he was watching out for stray sparks (which might ignite… the melting snow?). In time, though, Maea spoke again. No — not spoke, but began to sing. Nathaniel turned toward her, startled, his features for just a moment unguarded. It was a song he recognized, and though he didn’t think to join in, Nate approved. He listened in reverent silence. Maea had a good voice for song. When she finished, he nodded. “They would be proud.” He felt safe making this assumption about her family. “Do you need any more help?” With… anything else. Anything quick, as the sun was already setting. Night was upon them. Nate needed to be home. “I’ll come check in,” he added, a little awkwardly. “In a few days.” If she brushed off his offer of further help, Nathaniel would see this as his cue to leave. If not, he was happy to linger and to help her until the night deepened a little further. It's probably best to let go.