It was crisp out; the polar breeze brought with it the promise of an early winter and the clouds that had been gathering overhead suggested snow was close by. There was a new cover of flowers marring the otherwise unbroken expanse of greenery and placed innocently above the shifted land sat a beautifully crafted headstone. The name carved upon the smooth surface was one that was dear to the single bystander and try as he may his tears escaped the prison of his aching heart and fell upon the many flowers that had been set down in memory of the girl lying beneath the frigid ground.
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
Icy tracks betrayed his composure and drew the story of his agony over the loss of his dearest companion and love. Joined only by the sturdy mare that had accompanied them on so many adventures Numair Salmalin's heart swelled. Soon the simple flow that had drifted down his cheeks became a flood and heaving sobs racked his tired body until he could no longer hold himself up and he fell to his knees in pain. There he stayed until the sun slowly started to make its decent over the land and he received a gentle nudge and a soft wicker of concern.
Resting a hand upon Clouds greying mane he pulled himself up and drew his dirtied sleeve across his swollen burning eyes.
I am not there. I do not sleep.
He would no longer cry, for she would no more wish to see his tears then he would hers and they could only bring to him the pain, something he never wished to scar her memory with. Leaning on the mare he remembered her soft face and stubborn chin, the glint in her smokey eyes as she planned, the way her curly locks played in the wind and the loving smile she so often graced him with. He remembered their adventures and he almost smiled at the memory of her confession and the awkwardness of their first real meeting. And though all this he remembered the cry of the animals when she fell; the agony in so many voices when the arrow had pierced her heart.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
He would never forget the memory burned into his mind. He had tried; tried to stop the unrelenting flow of her life out of the wound but without real help, magical help, her face had slowly paled in his hands. The light in those stunning eyes was fading and he could do nothing to save her. He hated himself for that. As she struggled to hold on to the fire that was her soul he heard her softly speak a warning and wrenching his gaze away from her just enough to see the archer who had shot her aiming another arrow his way, his outrage overcame him.
I am the diamond glints on the snow.
He couldn't remember all that much after that; it was all a blur of magic and a rage that blinded him. The only clear image after that was of him urgently trying to carry her back to the camp he knew was to far away and her faltering heart beating weakly against his own; the calls of animals all round. Her breath hitched and she coughed the sickly blood on his shoulder and weakly told him to stop. He obeyed reluctantly; determined that if he should make it back to camp she would be fine. A look at her fevered face raised a doubt he rushed out of his mind; he wouldn't let it happen, he couldn't.
I am sunlight on ripened grain;
In response to his dread Daine smiled tenderly and raised a shaky hand to his face. "Never ails the heart that loves, Storkman." With a faltering attempt at a laugh Numair clasped the hand upon his cheek somewhat desperately.
"You would be the one to make a joke now, Dearest Heart." He planted a grave kiss on her feverish forehead and softly wiped the tears slipping down her face, "Come now all is not over; If we just get to the camp-"
"Mair' I do love you. You know that, right?" This seemingly innocent comment held a weight that was like lead in Numair's heart. She was saying her goodbyes and he would be damned if she didn't know exactly how he felt about her. Mindful of her wound he wound his hands though her soft curls and pressed his lips upon her own. This was more than a kiss; this was his devotion and desperation and love all presented to her from the very deepest parts of his heart. Drawing away slightly he placed his forehead upon hers and closed his eyes.
"I know love. I know."
I am a gentle autumn's rain.
Opening his eyes he saw hers flutter and her breath hitch; the hand that had been resting on his face fell to her lap as she smiled up at him. "I'm so tired, everything is fuzzy. It's like a dream Mair'." Gradually her eyes began to fall and the breath that had kept her alive for twenty-eight years no longer entered her lungs. It had taken seconds. Seconds to rip everything he'd ever loved away from him. He didn't cry that day.
When you awake in the morning's hush, I am the swift upliftin rush of quiet birds in circled flight.
Nor the day of her burial. Surrounded by nobles and barons that had the nerve to say they knew his Daine; he could do no more than watch as the wooden case carried her body down where the light would never touch her face again. When all was done he stayed by her grave until the only souls left where her true friends; both animal and human. He didn't talk much after that; only to those he knew loved her also and shared his pain. Slowly they years went on and black hair became grey. The place in his heart where she sat forever remained and he had broken though the wall of depression that nearly took his own life.
I am the soft star that shines at night.
He knew, as he stood by her grave that she wasn't gone. Not really. He could see her in the light, the animals that had become his friends and the stars; Always in the stars. Looking up at the blanket of night he smiled.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
A snowflake as beautiful and unique as his love hesitantly made it's way down to the ground at his feet followed by it's numerous companions. Grabbing the tulips from Clouds saddle he placed them gently atop her grave stone and looked one last time at the snow faling from it's heavenly perch. "Never ails the heart that loves, Dearest. I love you Magelet."
I am not there. I did not die.