'Come outside,' Pauline tried to reason with Alyss.
'No. Will isn't here,' she replied and continued with what she was writing.
'You have to, if only today,' Pauline continued.
'I don't want to,' Alyss said.
Pauline sighed and thought about what she could do. It was the day of Will's funeral, and whilst Alyss didn't know that part, she hadn't left the cabin in days, turning into weeks.
'Alyss, do it for me? Today?' Halt suddenly came into the conversation.
'Are you going to ask tomorrow?' she said pausing in her writing to look up. She had unconsciously avoided using the word "will" in her sentence as she could have.
'No. I promise,' he said. Alyss sighed and stood up.
'Where are we going?' Alyss asked from her position on her horse.
'To a peaceful garden,' Halt replied. 'And here is where you and Pauline leave your horses,' he said and got off Abelard as well. He helped to tie up the other two horses and silently made the sign for Abelard to be silent and to follow.
With a two minute walk, they reached the graveyard.
'Are you cold?' Halt asked, noticing Alyss shiver as the coffin was walked in.
'A bit,' she admitted. Halt pulled out Will's formal cloak, much to the astonishment of Alyss and Pauline, and wrapped it around the younger woman.
'Thank you,' she replied and snuggled into it.
'How is she coping?' Halt asked softly from where he was looking around the room. When they had gotten back from the funeral, Alyss had been emotionally unstable and had needed to be watched until she was fast asleep.
Many of the things in the cabin were Will and were exactly how he had left them last. Everything aside from the flowers, those, Alyss had lovingly often replaced.
'She is finally asleep. Still talking although,' Pauline muttered in response to his question.
Halt glanced down at what she had been writing earlier on in the day.
Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there, I did not die.
