.18.
She watches them sleep. She watch over them, still as a stone, steady as a mountain, face untouched by time. The light from her lantern flickers across her features whenever the wind touches the flame.
When they sleep, they look so much alike. So much like they are the same, stuck in time. The glow fades to almost disappear when they sleep and they end up being just a heap of bodies. Different skin, different colors, different sizes. As if they are alive once more, as if they never ended, as if they never cried.
She sighs and looks up at the sky, her lips stretched in a frown. Her job should be easy. Being her should be easy.
So why is it not?