Stone Circle When it is time to close my eyes

It was the screaming that woke Kristjan, just as it had his sister, yet it was Astrid’s firm backfoot that brought the boy up. Ow, Astrid, he mumbled, shaking his bruised face. He hadn’t seen her do it, but he was pretty positive about her being the culprit… By the time he looked up, she was already gone.

An icicle of dread pierced him then. It started to melt into his bloodstream, chilling his veins and leaving him with the icy feeling of silent terror. His mind raced in those few seconds.

He didn’t know what was happening. (Though deep down, he knew.) He hadn’t been too concerned with Gunnar’s worsening condition. (Though deep down, he had.) He’d been told of the sometimes-cruel nature of existing, but he had no clue what it truly meant, nor could he recognize the feeling of losing someone’s very existence. (Though he may have thought about it.) He was just a boy – he didn’t understand. (Though he would soon.)

Fear made him hesitate. He fidgeted on his feet, at first unsure of what to do. He had never heard such a gut-wrenching cry before; he was afraid of what following it might lead to. But still! The darkhooded boy found himself scrambling after Astrid, an innate sense of duty driving him forward, arriving on scene to see the wolves crouched beside the still body of –

Faðir?

Kristjan slowed to a stop. What is wrong with Faðir? Why is he lying like that? So… still. That’s not how you hunt… A whine of uncertainty escaped him, and he audibly swallowed his absolute fear before slowly venturing the rest of the way.

When he touched his nose to the patriarch’s hip and felt no breath or warmth or life, he gasped and recoiled from the soulless husk as if it had shocked him; his heart clenching so hard inside his chest that it felt like teeth were around it – and for a moment, he feared it might burst.

Is he… dead?

No, Kristjan answered himself out loud, shuddering as a sob threatened to break him into pieces. He- He just needs to eat. The boy started to nod, convincing only himself. Já. Let’s find- I mean, we can- He looked around them, desperation seeping, his breaths beginning to come in faster and sharper, now an instrument to beat back his sorrow with. He just needs to… If we get him food, he will get up. He always gets up.

Stage one: denial.