Atop the hill, underneath the near-leafless oak tree was where the people grieved.
The men wore their faces grim. The ladies sobbed or tried not to be too loud as tears dribbled down their faces from their eyes. One lady above them all bawled loudly. Her graying hair was loose from its bun and the bitter wind whipped it wildly around her red-rimmed eyes. She seemed to wail endlessly—often interrupting the good high priest presiding over the funeral. Her nephew put a consoling hand on her shoulder that she ignored and more wails tore from her throat.
She had lost her husband and now it was her dear son she was burying—or rather not burying. There was no body—because it was said that the dragon had ripped her son's body to pieces. It was told to be a fierce creature that had a hide of golden scales, and when the lad stood against it, it swiped him clear out of existence by talon alone. He had been such a good son, brave, honest, and always seeking the truth. How could he be gone—dead?. There was only a grave marker, carved of fine quartz stone that read his name for him to be remembered by.
"We grieve for the youth that has been lost—but be reminded that he died in the most heroic of ways—trying to save a young woman from the clutches of a monster…" the high priest of Wendbury spoke with true grimness—for if the lad had been alive one more day the priest would have overseen his wedding. The noted lady's teary eyes narrowed at the priest's words
"She was the monster!" she choked out between sobs.
The group of mourners made small gasps or head shakes of sympathy at the aging woman's outcry. She was in pain, and the pain was so hurtful within her that it caused her to say things that she didn't mean.
"That siren is the reason he is dead—the reason they are both dead." The girl she spoke of only had tiny bits of her dress found shredded in the forest for them to know of her demise by the golden beast.
The lady sucked in a determined, certain breath, "If he hadn't gone out there—followed her—lure…then…then he would still be alive!" she wailed and seemed to collapse on her last word. Her nephew, who was less sullen than his aunt by far, caught her and held her tight as her tears soaked into the arm of his shirt. He dabbed at his aunt's cheeks with the end of his cloak, shushing her gently. The lady was always one to make a scene when angry or sad. This time though, she thought she was quite reserved considering what had happened.
All she ever wanted was for her dear son to get married, and live a happy life—not to be the unfortunate victim of a dragon or the strange girl with green eyes that he had perished trying to save.