Broken Antler Fen may you find solace in the gentle arms of sleep, despite the wolves outside your door

the scent of rich earth was in her nostrils.
she stared down at her dirtied paws, not daring to glance to wraen or to bridget. this would be her first funeral, one of many to come if she lived a long life. and while the girl did not think now in terms of a life's length, she was reminded, horribly, of her own mortality, and how swiftly the essence of living could leave a body.
"he was like otter," she said finally. "curious. ready to give help. i glad he chose brecheliant for his last home."
throat tightening, she said no more, only silently waited for another to speak, or to be guided toward final rites.