Chapter 34
Chapter
Thirty-Four
The walk to the weeping willow tree deep in the forest is quiet, eerily so.
No birds sing out as we pass, no crickets chirp. It feels as if nothing moves except us, the small group of people who walk down the path I hoped I wouldn’t walk again.
Cedar and I carried the woman from the town hall, and when we pushed through the door, only a few people stood waiting.
Rylan strode up to us, took the woman’s limp body from our grasp, and the only thing he said was, “Lead the way.”
I twined my fingers with Hazel’s as we started walking, heading for the trail that led past the Pines’ house. Edward joined us as we walked past his window. His eyes were sombre as he picked up the same shovel as the last time.
More and more people followed behind us as we walked, weaving between the trees, yet no one spoke. Not a word has been uttered since we left the town square. I’m not sure what the right words would be.
Hazel grips my hand, squeezing it once as the fresh grave for the Livingstons comes into view ahead of us, the willow tree casting it under its everlasting shadow.
“Can you help me, boy?” Edward says as he digs his shovel into the dirt just near the fresh soil.
Rylan gently lays the woman’s body down, and Hazel, Cedar, and I kneel beside her. “I can start,” he says, taking the shovel and pushing it into the ground.
“How are we here again?” Hazel breathes as she looks down at the woman in front of us. “What went wrong that we’ve found ourselves in the exact same position?”
I can’t speak. I don’t have an answer.
Everything went wrong.
I focus on the sound of Rylan digging, the steady cut as he digs the metal into the forest floor, and the scrape as he pulls it up. The repetitive sound is the only dependable thing in this moment.
I look up, watching Rylan as he digs, and digs, and digs. Watching the determination furrowed between his brows, and the resentment tense in his forearms as he grips the handle fiercely.
Edward watches him too, his eyes roaming over Rylan as he digs deeper, throwing the dirt over his shoulder like it weighs nothing, giving no sign of stopping.
This feels too much like last time, it feels too familiar.
“We don’t even know her name,” I mumble.
“What?” Cedar asks.
I look up again to see my defeat mirrored in their eyes. “What was her name?”
They both look down at her, and Cedar shakes her head as her lips part.
“Does anyone know her name?” I ask as I turn around, looking at the people gathered behind me, a group of no more than ten people.
Ten people.
I remember my parent’s funeral. The entire town was there. Yet only ten people stand behind us, when this woman was murdered right before our eyes.
“Her name was Alice,” a voice calls quietly.
A few people step aside to reveal the young shield standing in his uniform at the back of the group, his sword still strapped to his waist.
“You can’t be here,” someone says.
He shakes his head, his eyes filled with fear. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I am so sorry.” I’m breathless as his pleading gaze meets mine. I remember the doubt in those light eyes, the uncertainty as he watched his captain strip a woman naked.
“Please.” He takes a hesitant step forward. “I’m here to pay my respects, nothing more. No one knows I am here.”
I don’t know what to say, but everyone looks to me as if it is my decision, and I’m not sure why.
The boy’s voice is shaky, and my heart falls deep in my chest. I don’t think he had any idea of what he was getting into when he took this job.
The steady sound of Rylan’s digging halts from behind me, and when I turn to see his dirt-smeared face, he’s looking at the shield. I can see in his eyes what he thinks, but his gaze drops to mine. His eyes remind me of the clearing by my old house—shades of green laced with empathy.
He must find whatever he is looking for in my stare, because he looks up at the boy once more, and gives him a terse nod.
I don’t fail to notice how the rest of the group doesn’t argue, the way they take that simple gesture as law.
The sound of the spade hitting the dirt once more draws my attention. “Last name?” Edward asks from where he is crouched in front of the willow, his knife in hand. No one answers him.
He gives a small nod before carving Alice’s name into the bark, just below Pearl and Dahlia’s.
I feel numb as he and Rylan lift her body before lowering her into the ground. All of this resembles a sick form of déjà vu.
“May she forever find peace in these woods,” Edward recites before he carefully tips the dirt back into the space it came from.
Everyone moves closer, and the small group of us form a circle around her grave.
Rylan finds a spot beside me, and I let out a shaky breath.
My inhale carries the scent of him, and I breathe it in, letting myself imagine that I’m somewhere else.
Somewhere in the forest as it rains, where raindrops fall from the leaves, and water cascades down the tree trunks.
I don’t open my eyes when I feel his knuckles brush against my own. Not even when his fingers slip between mine, his broad palm engulfing my own as our hands fuse together. I simply keep my eyes closed and hold on.