She can feel it, feel it fiercer than anything else in the air. Life itself, the marks they left upon the souls of the village.
Three graves at the very end of rows and rows and rows, littered with flowers and covered in thorny vines. The soil is fresh and smells of death.
And Kagome didn't need their names to be graved on a slab to know that this…
…This was them. Her friends.
Miroku.
Sango.
Inuyasha.
(Dead.)