His Own Good

Kana stood at the edge of the grave she’d dug - with her bare hands, because sometimes she just needed to feel.

“He was too strong for his own good,” Rastaban said.

“We were supposed to be for his good,” Kana said. She lowered Andrev into the grave, smoothed her thumbs over his eyelids in a last farewell. She buried his spear and his pipes beside him, and then she lifted her voice in a song to the wind, to carry his spirit away to eternal peace.

“You don’t really still believe in that, do you?” Rastaban asked.

Kana turned away.