Blackfeather Woods And yet when King Laugh come, he make them all dance to the tune he play.

@Atshen

The flowers of Redgrove were beginning to bloom as winter began to end. He was there, laying silently as he gazed upon the worn skull of his sister, Meldresi, kept pristine and protected by both the thorned flowers and the priests. There was a flower sprouting out of one of her eyesockets, though it's red flower had not blossomed just yet. Vines swarmed around its ivory structure, tethering it to the ground firmly. He could not pry it from the ground, even if he had wanted to. She was in the center of the grove, in the center of the bloody red heart of the Woods; the meaning behind it was not lost on him. 

He was only upset that he had not made it here sooner, to see her once more, living. He wondered how the years had treated her, how good of a mother she might have been to her three children. They had respect for her at the least, absolute reverence at the most. None had any scorn, not even it seemed, Nemesis. But the younger children had no knowledge of her, and he feared that her memory would fade soon into legend, no longer a mere mortal woman, but a spirit. He sighed, rising from her makeshift grave, determined to put his mind back to the present, as much as he wanted to linger in the happier past.