She came to with two sets of little hands pushing on her and she sat up quickly, everything rushing back to her at once. Lucy looked fine and Willow took a moment to put the pieces together before pulling the two children close to her in a tight hug.
The search party were looking at her in wonder and she quietly shook her head, tilting her head subtly in the kid’s direction as the reason she didn't want to go into it now.
Hugh was the stronger of the two, and she coaxed him into clinging to her back while she held Lucy like a smaller child. She was still weak, but her body appeared healthy, as if nothing had happened to her.
While Willow had been out, the party had wrapped little Timmy's body like the others and as they slowly, cautiously made their way home, they dragged the beast's body and picked up the bundles containing the children.
Willow was holding both children in her arms by the time they reached the compound, both children sleeping fitfully, unaware of the struggle it was for Willow to hold up two eight-year-olds. But they had screamed in panic when Willow had tried to pass one off and they were afraid it would pull in more of the beasts, so Willow bore it as cheerfully as possible.
The hall was still lit up when they finally made it there. A runner had gone ahead of them, from the Wall's guard so they knew they had arrived but in the darkness the guard could not make out how many had survived.
When they entered, the party was met with cries of despair which woke the two children in Willow’s arms abruptly. The others obscured Willow, exhausted from the events, and so they didn't see that at least two children had survived. All they could see was the tiny hessian packages, stained and gruesome.
Slowly, Willow made her way forward. At some point, someone had wrapped a thick woollen cloak around her and as she came to Harriet, she knelt and gently deposited Hugh into her shaking arms. She pressed her face into his hair, crying and rocking her child as Willow forced herself dizzily upwards and came to Cecelia.
Willow grabbed her shoulder, gave a gentle shake, and led her away from the package that held Liam.
“If you are sane. You will open none of them,” Willow called into the silence. “Do not see what I have seen.”
Old Ben was already crying when Willow leaned down and placed the exhausted Lucy into his arms.
“She's exhausted and will be for a few days,” she explained. “The Beast injured her.”
“I see the blood,” Ben responded. “I don't see no wounds though.”
“I... had a moment,” Willow admitted, catching Edward's eye. “Magic can react to… strong emotion. She's lost a lot of blood but with a bit of care she'll be just fine. She and Hugh are the only ones we found alive. Hugh was fine, but Lucy..." Willow shuddered and looked away, trying to force the memories from her mind.
She sat down then and asked the person beside Ben to ask for Agnes.
Agnes arrived quickly and grew greatly concerned when she called for potions, the same ones she had called for when Felix had his magical storm. She didn't ask questions, just hurried to fetch the requested items before taking a seat beside her. Willow gave her a tired smile, grimacing against the nasty taste of the potions.
As she finished one, she commented with another exhausted smile, "I spent a good six months trying to make a Rejuvenation that didn't taste like the inside of a pig's sty," she stated. "I managed it, but every time, it lowered the effectiveness of potion. I had to give it up in the end, it was taking me away from healing."
Agnes smiled a little. Willow saw reflected in her the bone deep exhaustion she felt. Agnes' face was haggard, her eyes bloodshot, and it was clear that she was as in need of a warm bath, a hot meal, and a bed. If she’d not been covered in gore, Willow would have hugged her.
A conversation had been happening around her and Agnes, but it seemed to come to Willow as if through water, and she eventually realised it would not change. Someone had fetched her some jerky to chew on, and a cup of tea sat at her elbow. She had diligently eaten all the food they had given her, but the tea had proven a challenge. Her body, so weak from the outburst of magic, had left her exhausted and even lifting the teacup had left her hands shaky and her cup clinked harshly against her saucer every time she tried. Agnes had helped steady her hands enough for her to take a sip before fetching more potions and insisting she drink whatever she could of them.
The cut in her hand had long since closed over and was healing nicely. After the second round of potions, the shaking had slowed as much as they would without a hot bath and a good night's sleep. She signalled to Edward in a lull of conversation. Old Ben and Harriet had taken their leave hours ago, Mina, Lucas and Cecilia had followed friends and family in a daze and from what Willow had heard they would be rotating through people's homes for the next few weeks.
Once they had departed, conversation had turned tentatively toward funeral preparation. Willow had interjected at this point, still feeling dizzy but determined.
"I would recommend a pyre," she stated firmly, and all eyes had turned to her. "Trust me," she had continued strongly, staring at her bloodied sleeve. "Nobody should see those bodies, least of all their relatives." She met the eyes of those around her, tears glistening in them.
People had easily agreed when the others in the search party had agreed emphatically.
Edward came over and Willow had begged permission to depart for a bath, showing subtly the gore embedded in her clothing to not draw further attention to it. Edward had quickly given her permission, turning to announce that further the dissolution of this meeting, encouraging everyone to sleep.
Departures were slow, many headed home to hug their children, grateful for them more than ever although a few men hung around, offering to carry water up to those who had gone out that day.
Willow was grateful for that and thanked them fervently until the men, embarrassed, hurried away.
"I must bathe," Willow said to Edward. "Feel free to visit in an hour if you have any further questions." Edward had nodded, encouraging her to look after herself.
Escorted by Agnes and Jonathon, Willow made her way slowly up to her rooms, although stopped on the way to fetch a few Sleeping Draughts. Willow knew she would need them, and she didn't want Agnes running around unnecessarily.
Agnes helped Willow undress and get into the bath, washing her hair of the grim of the day. Willow was grateful for her, especially given her squeamishness around blood. How hard must it be to continue when she was finding chunks of flesh?
Soon enough, Willow redressed drowsily. In her sleepiness, she felt it easier to ask, hesitantly, if Jonathon and Agnes would stay the night again. She explained that the Sleeping Draught would only work for a portion of the night, and it was very likely that some form of nightmare would take her in the early morning. It would bring her comfort to have them at hand, to bring her back to reality if that should happen.
They agreed easily, and Willow wondered if that helped them get through this too.
Willow, Jonathon, and Agnes took tea and were there when Edward came by. He only wished to know the details of the outings, the state of the bodies, and if any other beasts were known to be out there.
Willow struggled but told him all she could, and Edward left a bottle of wine for her, "For when the draught isn't strong enough," he claimed with a knowing look. It was the only time Willow had really considered that he had been a general soldier once, and he too must have seen atrocities of a similar scale.
Willow had taken the mead, thankfully, and Edward had returned to his son. Willow turned in soon after but did not take her draught until she heard Agnes and Jonathon bed down for the night.
The draught worked until the wee hours of the morning and sometime before dawn Willow awoke with a strangled scream, sitting bolt upright in bed, desperately gasping for breath.
Agnes appeared soon after, soothing her as best she could. Willow had risen and reached for the bottle Edward had left and had taken a snifter of the stuff as she looked out over the compound out her window. It seemed so peaceful, the sun just turning the sky purple, lighting the rim of the world.
A combination of bone-deep exhaustion, the small amount of wine and Agnes and Jonathon coaxed her back to bed where she managed to catch a few extra hours before the nightmares returned, and she gave up on sleep for that night. It was a normal enough hour that Willow called that night's sleep a success, given the situation.
She was not left alone, for which Willow was grateful. Being alone with her thoughts seemed a terrible idea.
Just after the morning meal, which Willow had forced down but barely tasted, Agnes told her gently that they were assembling the piers and the children's parents had asked her to be part of the process. This was considered a high honour; funeral preparations were a deeply familial proceeding and inviting someone from outside the family was tantamount to saying we acknowledge you as a member of our family.
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This had surprised Willow. She couldn't understand it, blaming herself for the children's deaths. She said as much to Agnes.
"If I had moved faster, if I had not asked for permission, maybe I could have got to them before they died. Their bodies were still warm, Agnes. They were only a short way ahead of us."
Agnes' response had surprised her, and she found a log of wood Agnes had been using to stock the fire against her head, leaving her mildly dazed and looking at Agnes' in genuine shock.
"You stop that right now. This ain't your fault," she all but yelled, bring Jonathon in from outside the door where he had been discussing something or other with an acquaintance. Willow started. "You didn't know, no one did. Those families... they don't blame you. They know that it was a terrible, awful, horrible accident. Take no blame where it ain't yours, love. It does no good." She finished more gently, taking Willow's hand, who had begun to cry.
This revelation heard, but probably not yet absorbed, Willow readied to go take part in the funeral prep. Traditionally colours were subdued for deaths in the East, it had once been the deeper shades of blue before the King but now was just the darkest shades one could get without dying. Often it was cotton deliberately stained with coal from the fire, a murky dark grey. However, here in the South Willow was unsure of the practises and relied heavily on Agnes' for this.
“Traditionally, we would wear the darkest shades of orange, the colour of fallen leaves left to dry,” Agnes explained. “Shoes are brown. You are being treated as family, so things are a little more rigid for you: we wear the hair free around the shoulders like the soul we have lost with a black strip tied across the head for women. It shows the losses effect. No other adornments unless it was a gift to you from the departed.”
"In the city it is different but here that is the practise we follow." When Willow had asked, Agnes had scurried away to fetch a dye. They didn't have time for a permanent one, but Willow was Willing to sacrifice her most pristine dress, a cloudy off white, for the stain which meant a better hold. They set to that, and Willow soon had a deep orange to wear. Brown shoes were easiest as all of Willow's shoes were tanned leather and Agnes could procure her a black band for her hair.
Agnes had offered to help with the hair and clothes, but she had gently refused.
"Where I am from, we rarely allow others to see us with our hair down as adults. A funeral is the only exception. We believe by freeing our hair, we show the soul they too may be free from this world, so they know we will be fine without them. It is so the souls do not stay and become corrupted," Willow explained. So, Agnes' had sat on the bed while Willow assembled the articles, she needed beside her before turning to her vanity.
Pins fell into the small bowl she used to store them, and Willow realised that she had only been seen by Agnes' with her hair down here. In Tanut it was a rite of passage to put the hair up, a sign of adulthood, but she had seen many women here left their hair down, although pulled back in plaits, braids, or tails. Once brushed, Willow brushed the tears away and carefully tied the black band into place. At this point she paused and moved to pull a small wooden box from under her bed.
A few months previously, she had taken the children to visit the woodworker, and he had shown them how to carve small wooden trinkets. Many of the children had brought her such things while injured, claiming they would make her happy. Each of the three children who had died had done so, and she intended to wear the trinkets to the funerals.
She sorted through and found them, a simple swirl pattern on a flattened disk for Timmy, for Amelia a clumsily carved wolf and a disk with three jagged lines on it from Liam. He had told her it was the rivers of her home. She threaded these onto a thread of simple twine and asked Agnes' to help tie it in place.
Finally, clothes on, Willow was ready and turned back to Agnes' for further instruction.
"I'll be able to escort you down, but the parents will take you from there. I wasn't invited, so Jonathon and I cannot attend. It'll be simple things this afternoon, assembling the pyre mostly, and there will be guidance available for what you need. Everything else is personal to the family and they will guide you from there."
Willow nodded, and then returned to the sitting room for the midday meal, which Jonathon had brought up while Willow had readied herself. Willow picked at the meal, not hungry until the appointed time, and Agnes' escorted her down to the open space in front of the hall.
The trees had already been cut and brought in, very thin logs of some needly tree, ready for the pyres, and there was a flurry of movement. There were few people, families were generally small, and between the five children there were fifteen family members. They were all assembling close by and when Agnes' raised a hand in muted greeting; the parents made their way over.
They seemed surprised by Willow's outfit, although not displeased.
"Thank you," Cecilia said, sincerely, nodding at her dress.
Willow shifted uncomfortably. "I wasn't sure of the customs here, so I asked Agnes' for some help. I hope it turned out all right."
"No, no, you've done it properly," Lucas assured her quietly then noticed the trinkets about her neck. "What are these?"
Willow touched the fragile adornments, "Timmy, Amelia and Liam gave me these."
Several parents wiped away teary eyes.
Mina wiped a hand down her face with a heavy sigh. "It's time."
The other nodded reluctantly, gave Agnes a quick nod before turning to Willow.
Mina took her right hand; Lucas took her left while Cecilia stood behind with a hand on her right shoulder.
"This is tradition," Mina explained quietly. Willow nodded. "This is the formal part, inviting you into the fire. It's like a temporary family reunion."
They led Willow forward to a smaller fire with a pot of a dark substance sitting on top. Beside the fire was a haunch of meat with a wicked-looking knife sat next to it. Each let go and moved toward it, picking up the knife and carving a small scrap of meat and, one after the other, placing it in Willow's mouth.
"It is a simple thing," Cecilia explained with a twisted smile, "But welcome to the family for this evening. We feed you as we feed our blood." Willow moved about, hugging all, wiping fresh tears.
Now, it was time for the real work. The trees had to be cut down to size, de-branched and assembled. Lucas and Cecilia's husband took the axes while Willow and the others used smaller axes to remove branches. These were to be used as the foundation level and once removed, Willow and Mina moved to begin the setup.
For now, it was being set up around a block of wood but as the stack grew, they would remove the block for a smaller flatter one that the body would rest on. They built upwards around it with the rest of the timber. Once the body was inside, that entrance would be covered, and the dark liquid Willow had seen on the wood would start the fire.
It was back-breaking work, but good for keeping hands and minds busy. They were small pyres. Traditionally they would be bigger, but with such small numbers, those grander aspirations were impossible to complete. But they did, just as afternoon was becoming dusk.
Once finished, they shared a meal and a small, subdued toast before people trickled into the clearing. This part was a public affair and anyone who had known the deceased, Cecilia explained, was welcome to come and mourn.
Willow had stood off to the side but was soon joined by Hugh and his family and Old Ben, who carried Lucy in his arms. Willow had told him the day before of the potions she would need, and she had gained some colour back in her cheeks, but it would be sometime before she was fully back to physical health. Mentally however, that could take a lifetime after the horrors they had seen.
Hugh’s mother held him close, but he held tightly to one of Willow's hands, trying to hide his sobs.
Harriet had bent down and explained that it was perfectly normal to cry, but still he persisted. Lucy openly cried into the collar of Old Ben's collar as he gently stroked her back and murmured comforting words as best, he could. Willow stood between them, grateful she’d saved some children, but still feeling guilty for not being able to bring all of them home.
As they assembled Mina joined her, explaining that they required her for one more funeral duty, and she gently detached Hugo from her hand. He clung like a spider's web until she had knelt down and promised to come straight back afterwards. He'd agreed reluctantly, curling into his mother's side until she lifted him into her arms where he could rest against her chest.
Willow followed Mina to where the other parents stood. Beside them were the wrapped bodies of their children. Willow had not been involved, but two of the other members of the group that had gone out and searched for the children had offered to re-wrap their bodies and the parents had gratefully accepted.
Wrapped in the purest white clothes, they almost appeared correctly shaped, and Willow made a mental note to thank the people responsible.
"We reserve white for children," Lucas explained softly. "Pale green for fourteen to sixteen, brightest green for adults and deep green for the elders."
Willow nodded.
"We'll place them according to age, youngest to oldest," He continued, fighting down a sob while attempting to calm his near hysterical wife. "Timmy is first up."
He ushered Willow forward to where Timmy's grandparents and aunt stood by. They had placed the bodies on short stretchers. Timmy's parents took the front while one grandparent, and the aunt carried the back. Willow's job was to ensure the body did not fall and the remaining grandparents would bring up the rear with the flame.
As soon as they had moved to the bodies, a chilly hush had fallen over the crowd and now they drew back, allowing the group to slowly make their way forward in an almost rhythmic motion as they slowly approached the first pyre. Once he’d been placed within his pyre, his family moved to pull the branches in front of the opening, obscuring the body.
The grandmother hobbled forward now, blind with tears and with a heartbroken grunt, thrust the flame through to the dried tinder in the centre. It smouldered for a moment before catching. It would be some time before the pyre was fully alight and Willow had to return to repeat the process. Each time they placed a small body, the harder and faster the tears fell but she never wavered, kept putting one foot in front of the other and did for these children what they deserved, since they had not received it in life.
Once all were there, the fires lit, the silence continued and Willow, having completed her familiar duties for now, returned to Hugh and Lucy. They knew what was happening and understood and had been the loudest cries in the crowd as each body had moved passed them. Willow's presence seemed to calm them some and so she stayed there, Hugh's tiny fingers clinging tightly to her dress, Lucy with a fistful of sleeve.
Willow lost track of time, watching the fires burn, and the children refused to leave.
What must have been hours later, the fires having burned white hot and the dawn sun peeking out over the horizon, Mina joined her.
"Thank you for being here and honouring our babies. If ever you have a need for us, be it comfort or war, we will be there. We know that you have beat yourself up for not saving them..." Mina hiccupped pushing tears down. "But it was not your fault. It was a terrible accident. You could have done nothing differently."
Willow nodded, thanked her for allowing her a part.
"Your duties end with the rising sun, Willow. Get some rest. We'll all need it."
She thanked Willow again and departed.
Willow sighed and rolled her shoulders. The two children had dozed off some hours ago and their parents had taken them home, faces grim. Willow now did so too, with a heavy gait and equally heavy heart, feet dragging.
Agnes and Jonathon were still up, waiting for her return with a pot ready, a sleeping draught and a small flask of strong liquor beside it. Being a Healer, Willow knew better than to mix alcohol and potions, but that night she didn't care. She dumped a portion of the liquor into her tea, then sipped it down; the flavours mingling.
She, Jonathon, and Agnes' toasted to those lost for a safe trip beyond and then Willow picked up the Sleeping Draught, downed it and bid the two goodnight. They shared a look of concern that Willow studiously ignored. Even they knew mixing alcohol and medicine wasn't the best idea. And it wasn't but Willow knew that, if used sparingly, it would give her the best sleep she'd ever have.
And Willow swore she damn well needed that now.