I might not have bothered if I hadn't noticed the shovel as I packed. As it was, the grave was a little
shallow
. Both because I was tired of the undertaking and because I used too much force and broke the old handle on the tool.
And I am
not
digging down further with my
bare claws
to bury something that I do not plan to come back and eat later. Which I do not. It's already a somewhat ridiculous thing I'm doing, to be honest.
My homeland did not have such a practice as covering our dead with earth, but Helene knew that the humans here did. I'm hoping if I'm ever
caught
by this man's friends - should he even have any - that they will consider my action a good deed.
Elsewise, I would have just dragged him to an exposed area for scavengers to disassemble, like is natural. Like the
boneyards
I'm used to.
I positioned his body in the grave with the decomposing head facing east toward the rising sun. It probably means nothing here, leastwise in whatever religion he followed, but it was a cheap concession to my own tradition... that may do no wrong.
Why did I even care which way this
murderer
, to put it politely, faced?
Perhaps it was just that some part of me needed the ritual of it. Needed to acknowledge that even this man, who had made his living killing the closest thing to
my kind
in this strange world, deserved no less
dignity
than I would have given a human corpse from mine.
A little wish to honor the familiar cycle I grew up with.
So I've hauled him to this hole with my own clawed hands. My siblings would have been
scandalized
at just about everything I've done or experienced since I arrived.
But they are not here. They might have made
different
choices, but that only makes sense. We're different people, after all. Them. Me. Helene.
> I don't know what will happen in the future, but that's not going to change. I can only be Citra Lomdi. Okay? I'm actually surprised nothing tried to break into his hideaway to get to him. Do you have any idea why they wouldn't? Had his soul already begun its journey to a new vessel in this world or some other? Or did it linger, confused by the strangeness of my attention? In any case, at least he wasn't murdered. It relates to a practice of my homeland that I never really questioned the sanctity of. Those who died violently required the sacred intervention of the Serpent shifters. Bodies were consumed by great-sized snakes of theirs. Actually, if someone like me... or even another human came here, this structure isn't exactly that strong? What good was the lock he used? <
A
crass snort
comes out of me, both for realizing it late and for bothering to question my wolf. It didn't matter, anyway. The important thing is that the
timely death
has provided me with resources I desperately need.
A practical perspective. Perhaps slightly
coldhearted
, even. But survival wasn't a completely gentle business, even as a princess. Only just a little more
grim
... at the moment, than I am accustomed to.
I'll have to find a way to make that better somehow,
before
the child is born. If I can. A safe place and
stable
food.
I quickly consult the system map again to confirm my direction. Toward the
city
and its opportunities. Toward the task I was given and what might come from completing it.
The blue light that makes up
almost everything
this interface does stands out against the dark. Reminding me of the
color
of the eyes of my wolf.
And those of the pack of werewolves this body belonged to.