The skies were a bleak shade of gray. They always were, now.
In the days ahead, everything seemed lifeless, devoid of color, of meaning. I spent most of my waking hours staring out of my tiny window at the fields. Just like before, the gentle grasses swayed in the wind: only, now, it seemed so different. Now, it only brought painful memories, memories of the time before.
Where was Plusle? Where was he to laugh, and run around, and wander the fields with me? Where was he to listen to Evie's stories with me, to share her delicious meals, to join me on her expeditions?
Where was he?
Sometimes I wished I could disappear, just like him. Sometimes, I hated staring out into those fields. I hated living. Nothing seemed real anymore: everywhere, everything only reminded me of when Plusle was alive.
Sleep didn't bring any relief, either. Nightmares plagued my unconsciousness. They were always the same: Plusle and I would be talking happily. Then, a dark shadow would descend from the sky, coming straight at us, while Plusle carried on, unaware, as I froze in fear. In a split second, it would swoop by, clutching him in its claws, and he would be gone forever, leaving me all alone.
Sometimes, I would lay awake whole nights, afraid to sleep, knowing that soon, I'd have to face the all too familiar nightmare again.
Weeks turned to months. Evie and I had always been close, but now, she seemed to keep her distance. She knew I was grieving, and tried to give me some space. But now, more than ever, I needed her support. I needed her kindness, her caring nature, only to find her retreating, leaving me with a terrible loneliness. I tried to catch her whenever I could: even though she got up much earlier than me, even though she wouldn't return until late at night, when I was writhing in my sleep, whimpering through the horrors that the nightmare forced me to relive daily.
Then I fell sick.
It only took a minute for Albert to diagnose it as stress. "To put it lightly, Minun is extremely stressed," Albert told a frantic Evie. "He's suffering from agitation and worry. Tell me, Evie, how is his life so far?" Evie briefly spoke of our schedule: she would wake up before dawn, make our meals, eat breakfast, and leave on her studying trips before I woke up. The whole day would pass by, and I'd go to sleep hours before she returned, long after midnight.
Albert merely nodded, thinking. Finally, he spoke: "Minun suffers from loneliness, Evie. He is still pained by Plusle's death, and needs your support." He looked into Evie's eyes. "Promise me, Evie, that you will spend time with him. I understand it might be hard for you: I can see you are grieving, and as a result, you pour all your effort into work. But you may be harming Minun more than you can imagine. You are his caretaker, and right now, more than ever, he needs all the time and love you can spare."
From then on, Evie spent as much of the day with me as she could, canceling everything she could: all of her studying trips, her appointments, even the wilderness expeditions I knew she loved. I often spent hours nestled in her arms, not saying anything, and at night, she would sit and read by my bed, before sleeping with me. Soon, the nightmares stopped coming, and I began to feel better as the days passed.
The day came for Plusle's funeral. Plusle's parents asked me where he would've liked to be buried, and without a doubt I told them: the hill where we'd spent so many years, where we'd laughed and played and danced in the wind, where we'd looked down at the village for one last time on that fateful day.
The ceremony was simple: a small gravestone was erected on the top of the hill, and Albert said a few words over it, mostly about how Plusle was so vibrant and alive, and how unfortunate it was for him to have died. I don't think I even listened: all my thoughts were on Plusle, on his laugh, his smile, all the times we'd had together before he died.
The final part of the ceremony involved all of us planting seeds around the hill. They would grow into those berries (which Evie identified as Sitrus berries) that Plusle and I had enjoyed eating on our way up Boulder Mountain.
In the months ahead, I would often visit his grave, looking at the hill, covered in the Sitrus berry bushes. It was a beautiful sight, but...to me, it didn't feel complete.
It would never feel complete, not until silver roses grew there, like Plusle had always wanted.