In a quiet spot in the woods near the Breach, Isawda lovingly puts the finishing touches on a small wooden box. Small but, to him, precious.
Crafted from living wood it commemorated one who no longer lives, no longer travels at this side. Their paths had not always been identical, as her blood ran much hotter than his. But the world without her was still a much darker and colder place. Perhaps when other added their remembrances of Ithawda, and the Memory Box was consumed by flames, the ceremony would warm and light his future path with her memories.
Should he abandon the Breach that Ithawda had always been so willing to risk her life for? Returning to the lands of the Biata might be the easy answer, but did it honor her memory?
"No."
The one word was the first he had spoken in several days. But while the voice might sound rusty and hoarse, the decision was clear as crystal in the early morning air.
With that, he placed sever small items in the Memory Box, closed it reverently, an turned toward Parsons Breach and the future.
It seemed only a few quick steps and he was back in the public square of the Breach. Somehow it was exactly the same as always, and yet so different.
Glancing around, Isawda looks to see who else is up and about...
