He dismounted, patting Spots, and followed her. His feet sank into the muddy earth below him as they traveled the path—barely more than a game trail. They'd been home-bound from Cría when she'd paused, their mounts stopping with her and nearly unseating him, and asked if they could take a detour.
Something about her demeanor unsettled him and so he agreed without question. She'd been quiet as they rode through the winding, unkempt hill roads and she had yet to speak. He let her take the lead, hanging back. He was used to her leading with unknown purpose, navigating wilderness with a sure foot. This was different, though. She didn't pause to cock her head, listening to the direction of the people. She walked forward with purpose, like her feet knew this road.
Their mounts followed, as somber as their leader. He looked back to see Cloud thrashing her tail in a way he had learned the hard way meant she was anxious. He turned back to see that she had stopped in the road in front of an area of overgrowth spilling over from the forest.
"I didn't know we were so close." He wasn't sure if she was talking to him or herself. He studied her, brows knit, and looked back at the overgrowth. It took him a moment before he saw it. The first story of a home could be seen through the roots and vines that grasped at it. The tops of what timbers remained were charred and blackened until they vanished. His stomach sank.
She moved forward, stepping carefully along a path that had long since disintegrated. He followed again, far enough to show respect but close enough that she wouldn't be without him. They moved around the perimeter of the ruined home, stepping carefully over the tangled debris where the Eastern wall had collapsed. He reached out to offer a hand when she climbed over the remains of the chimney but she scaled it easily and it was he who scrambled gracelessly. He heard Cloud snort from behind them, unable to follow. Daine stopped behind the house, knee deep in thicket. He could see a fence-post, at least one, and beyond it what looked like the sun-bleached colors of a homespun target peeking from a raspberry bush.
She was scanning the ground and he wondered if he should ask what she needed. Wondered what he could possibly give. Her jaw was clenched and her fingers twisted around the hem of her tunic. With a deep breath she pointed to the earth near the fence post, "Granda is there. Where he taught me to shoot my first bow." Her lip trembled. "Ma is next to him. She used to bring a chair out and do her work while we practiced. She thought it was unladylike—but needful."
She moved as she spoke, pointing out areas in the yard. "The animals—the pig, chickens—they're along there. Cloud's family is there, or—" she paused, tears threatening to fall as she looked between two areas, "maybe there. Gods, you'd think I'd remember. They took so long to bury." He had to strain to hear the last part.
She turned to him and he fought the urge to sweep her into a hug. He didn't, though. He knew what it felt like to need permission to grieve. "I tried to mark them but," her voice broke and she shook her head, looking away. "I didn't have much."
"We have time now," he closed the distance between them, placing a hand on her shoulder as black fire gathered around the brush and began to gently push it back.