Stone Circle children of the stones

At his mother's behest, Ujurak combed the yellowed and dried highland grasses in search of any surviving blooms before joining his family at the circle. The frost having claimed most of the wildflowers, Ujurak managed to locate several late blooms of indian paintbrush. The petals had lost their vibrancy, the bright red now dulled as these flowers too began to wilt.

Clutching their stems, Ujurak walked besides his family in silence. The stones looming overhead just as they did when Gunnar had passed. Leaving the flowers atop his grave, Ujurak returned to his mother's side. Head lifting as she posed a question to them.

Turquoise eyes cast upon the circle. Stone monuments stood tall, weathered by age. Was there more to them? Ujurak had not yet considered that stones had a history. Now that he was thinking about it, had he seen other standing stones?

His brow creased as a slight frown set on his face. No, no he hadn't. He instead took into account what he knew he had seen. A cold pit formed in his belly. An answer slowly formed on his tongue. He chewed on it as it caught in his teeth. Cautiously, he presented his answer, They're... gravestones?