Meadowlark Prairie toothaches from kissin' me

They reached the hilltop, where a tall stone lay set in the earth, marked with scratches for each body left behind. A tombstone for the mass grave that laid behind it.

Unnamed, but not forgotten. Not forsaken. Synder stood and simply stared for a long few moments, the rolling clouds shifting across the dark sky, giving way to more moonlight. Eventually what was melancholy became something much calmer.

Are you kidding? She remarks with a breath of a laugh. It's something. More than what they had before.

He didn't have to, not at all. She didn't expect him to. But he had gone out of his way to prepare for them a memorial. Playing humble as if it wasn't the sweetest thing she'd seen a man do. She pulled in close to him as they sat in front of the altar, letting her muzzle drift across the fur of his neck, her breath warm on his skin. ...Thank you, Roan.

you're a good man.

She thought, but didn't say.