38
The pyre took shape as the day progressed and by mid-afternoon Jack was satisfied with it.
He had pulled creeping vines from the trees and decorated it, wild flowers placed amongst the wood.
It looked ethereal and he hoped Ianto liked it.
He took the old quilt Ianto loved so much and wrapped him in it, wanting to remove him from the bag but with it enough to know there would be a messy sight for the others if he did so he settled for totally covering and hiding it with a quilt.
He then carried the body to the pyre and placed if carefully in the nest on top, where pillows and twigs along with dried leaves waited.
Jack wondered if he should just lay down as well.
He imagined the flames licking at him his clothes and hair going as his skin burned.
He imagined holding Ianto and the distinctive smell of his musk.
It would hurt. But at least he would feel something.
Better than this … emptiness.
He sighed and placed more flowers, then climbed down and pushed the wooden ladder into the tower as well.
Better make it good so the Gods could see.
Jack lit a match and tossed it, watching the tinder take as the pyre began to burn.
Jack felt a hand slide into his and he looked down, finding Billy standing there with tears streaming down his little face.
"Do your grandparents know where you are?" Jack asked hoarsely.
Billy nodded.
"We're right here boy" Ifan said softly and Jack turned back to watch the flames as they flickered in the sky.
Owen carefully helped Tosh walk to watch, the small bundle in her arms clutched by both parents.
Tosh came alongside Jack and turned her body so the baby was shielded from the heat.
Jack looked down and saw a pair of almonds peering back from the blanket.
Then thin, long fingers appeared, pulling back the blanket as the baby blinked at him.
Jack wished he could feel joy. A new life, a wonderful gift but all he felt was raw.
In almost thirty minutes as the pyre burned, the night fell. People came, left, cried and threw things onto the fire.
He watched until the pyre was little more than a pile of ash and he walked over to kick it over and make sure it was all out.
Then he waited for it to cool so he could collect the ash in order to scatter it around the perimeter of the bubble.
Ianto would like that.
To be surrounding his family, his pack.
As Jack waited he looked to the trees on the hill and silently cursed the Mara again.
.
.
.
It walked slowly, the scent of Ianto still in the tarmac that he had jogged on as he ran towards the farmhouse and the motorbike.
It was limping, blood dripping from its jaws and in its matted hair.
A soft growl as it slowed and changed course, starting to cross the field as it followed the track to the final destination.
It slouched towards the village in the dark.