A loose breeze, cooled by the night, swept through the glade, fingering Pike's fur and toying with the buds, leaves, and ferns but leaving the topsoil of Wind's grave undisturbed. The dirt had long settled; Pike could even see a lone sprout poking its head up through the earth.
He sighed, and his breath joined the breeze in its revelry. Sharp laughter and raucous shouts rang in the distance as his companions headed to their nests, doubtless getting in one last gibe at the unfortunate forced to guard the camp entrance that night. More than a moon had passed, and he still could not share in their high spirits. It was incredible how quickly they seemed to forget it all. They did not speak of it anymore, partially out of deference to Pike, he knew, but perhaps more out of their own discomfort and wish to bury their shame with their dead general, he was sure.
They had found a way to cope with their grief and guilt—they had moved on. As for Pike, well. He had once thought, once hoped—foolishly, foolishly—that perhaps carrying out his promise to his dying brother, meeting with the kittypet—Lily, he thought with a grimace—would help ease his pain. To be sure, it had provided him closure of a kind, to a point—he had done his duty, after all. But his grief remained unabated. The small part of him that had thought that in opening up wounds in Lily he would transfer his pain to her, and the even smaller part that had pervertedly expected to find some relief from his suffering in hers, were unsatisfied.
And where did that leave Pike? Here, he thought. Alone. But for what?
He closed his eyes, sighing once again. But the breeze had left the glade, and so his breath hung stale and alone in the air.
But Pike was no longer alone. A rustling in the ferns behind him prompted his eyes to open slowly, and he turned his head to see Wish standing wraithlike at the end of the glade. Her ginger-patched white coat shone in the night's pale glow, and her gaze flickered from the rise of dirt to Pike sitting before it. She drifted over to stand beside him, and then she sat. Neither spoke, for though he was comforted by her presence, it was not enough to penetrate the pain that had preceded her, and he knew she knew this, for he felt her head rest itself on his shoulder.
Why, Wind? he asked his brother, looking not to the ground but lifting his eyes to the sky and stars above. Why?
Wind did not answer.
