Everything dies, even gods. Solis knew this, but he hadn’t been prepared for what death does to the living.

Solis has already spent three weeks in Faise Fatori without even feeling the time. Days really fly when you’re out all the time, shoveling hay, or mooing at cows, or pulling water from the town well… who knew hard labor would give the young god such a profound sense of clarity and focus?!

Solis had been eagerly awaiting the next time the village would gather for a full moon feast, as it was a chance to eat a lot, talk even more, and shirk some responsibility for a while. As much as he loved farm chores, he loved chatting with the villagers even more.

Grateful he’d been accepted into their little community, Solis had decided to do something special. His plans of thanking the village as a whole would have to come later when he was back in his heavenly body, but for now…

“You’re much better at this than the other men.”

Solis beamed, pulling gently at the loose tufts hanging from the edges of the blanket in his hands. He was proud to be good at something, and more than a little excited to hand it over to its intended recipient when the time came.

The ladies of the village had been more than welcoming when he’d inquired about their own daily tasks. It was an immense amount of work, and Solis found he was terrible at most of it, especially cooking. There was always either too much or not enough water, and he could never get the proportions right!

Anyway, after telling them his plan for gifting the soon-to-be-born newest member of the village something special, the women ushered him into one of the house’s sitting rooms, where a group of them were already hard at work, fingers roving over what Solis had discovered was called a loom.

He had spent that morning learning diligently, and found that he had a real talent! Solis had a fascination for anything tactile; soft, warm fabrics, or silks that would glide across skin being his favorite things to wear in The Heavenly Realm. Now, as a human, articles like that were incredibly hard to come by. Imagine his joy when these helpful ladies taught him how to make his own soft clothes!

Solis had his gift for the infant perfected by that evening, and by the next, had accrued a small basket of woven tapestries, knitted socks, and a blanket that had turned into a shawl after one unfortunate incident with the shears…

The god was thrilled!

It was still two nights before the next full moon feast when Kerick started hollering from the pasture, waving his hands and shouting-

“Quick, quick! Come quick! My sister is having her baby!”

Solis grabbed his gift and hurried outside.

The sun was just starting to set, its waning light turning the horizon a pretty pale pink, and as he sped down the path to the little cottage, Solis quickly joined the little huddle of onlookers, the villagers- anxiously awaiting with hopeful smiles, the newest addition to their extended family.

Everyone stood still and quiet, a few exchanging hushed whispers. When Ema finally peaked her head outside the cottage door, her apron appallingly stained, she breathed a deep sigh of relief which was echoed among the dozens of villagers, including the young god.

“Well? What d’you say?! Is it a pretty lass or a strong lad?”

“Yeah, don’t leave us hanging!” The villagers laughed and smiled in jest.

Ema put her hands on Kerick’s shoulders, as he had come to stand by her side.

“We won’t know for a while yet,” Ema shook her head. “Go home, everyone! I’ll send the boy with news when there is some-”

Some people groaned and pouted, but stumbled back to their dwellings with excited murmurs of what the young couple might name their babe. Solis was the last one standing, and after a moment, Ema approached him, her soft eyes quickly finding the blanket still in his grasp.

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Solis didn’t know how these sorts of things worked. The baby would be born, but when? How did the mother know when the time was right? Was the father also aware? Were the gods?

Ema smiled, gesturing at the gift.

“Do you want to give it to her now?”

Solis blinked, unable to speak, so he just nodded and followed Ema and Kerick into the little house. It was only two tiny rooms; a small kitchen with a table and a pair of mismatched chairs- flowers delicately arranged in a spotless vase- and a door that led to the bedroom, containing only a mattress and a pile of bedding on a wicker chair.

Solis stood in the open doorway and watched as Kerick went to his sister’s bedside, taking over the cloth from the father-to-be’s hand and dabbing the brow of the woman in bed.

She lay half under the covers, her skin pale and damp, a tiredness in her smile but a spark in her eyes that spoke to her youth and spirit. Solis saw the way she leaned into her husband’s embrace, her eyes closing in comfort as he kissed her cheek, as was his habit. The young god found the sight to be the most wonderful thing he had ever seen…

“Solis has brought you a gift, sweetheart.” Ema said gently, “Do you feel well enough to receive it?”

“Mn. The pain has passed again. Solis, what is it you have there? Come, sit-”

Solis gingerly sat on the edge of the bed. With so many people in such a tiny room, he expected to feel unease, but within this home was only belonging and warmth, the kind only humans were capable of. Solis basked in it.

“It is for you, and… the child.” He said softly, handing her the blanket.

Her husband helped her take it, and the young woman smiled. Solis watched the way her fingers splayed over the weave, clutching it, feeling the softness. He imagined her little one being bundled up in it, feeling safe inside something that Solis had created. He wanted that to be his gift more than anything. Peace.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I like this color.”

Solis had chosen it because it reminded him of the young woman’s eyes, and had thought the baby would find it especially comforting.

Kerick chatted in a low voice with his sister, then mother, occasionally shooting an anxious glance at Solis. When his sister’s eyes closed in pain, white fists gripping her husband’s sleeve as she held her breath and shook, Ema sent Kerick and Solis both out to wait in the yard.

The sun had almost completely set as Kerick walked the length of the log fence around the house and played a few games of slingshot with Solis. They entertained themselves in near silence, every so often pausing as they heard the nearby sound of a breathy cry or scream. Solis hadn’t known birth could be so violent and painful. He was suddenly grateful he didn’t remember his own, and could only hope the same was true for humans as well.

When the stars came out, the crickets began chirping, and the almost-full moon was a gleaming sphere in the midnight sky, Solis finally looked up to see the cottage’s door opening slowly. Ema stepped out, strangely stiff. She didn’t smile. She didn’t wake Kerick from where he had fallen asleep with his head pillowed on Solis’ lap. Ema closed the door. And leaned against it. And cried.

Solis liked to think he had become somewhat proficient in understanding mortal emotions. He knew that humans cry for a variety of reasons; sometimes when they’re happy, scared, angry, or alone. But the wail that tore from Ema’s lips as she sank to her knees in the dirt on the porch of her daughter’s home, simply could not be misconstrued as anything but grief.

Kerick shot up, suddenly alert. Solis stood and watched as he ran to his mother and hugged her, demanding to know with a shaking voice what had happened… if his sister was okay. Solis had not stopped to consider that there could be an outcome to this evening besides the one he’d imagined in his head.

He suddenly realized how naive he had been, watching the way Ema shook and wept as she tried desperately to clean her bloodied hands off on her skirt.

The village was silent that night. They were silent in the morning too. It was a silence that ate away at everything, and Solis discovered a fascinating thing about humans while listening to it.

Grief, when felt, saturated them. It was in everything, but it was deep in their silence. They seemed to have to distance themselves from their sadness, even as they felt it, as if letting it too close, close enough to touch, close enough that it slipped past their lips, was a death sentence of its own.

Humans didn’t like to talk about dying. Solis found it strange, for a species that did it so often.

There was no full-moon feast that month. Solis tried to talk to Kerick but the boy would only yell at him and run off. His grief was somewhat sharper than the others’ and Solis knew there was nothing he could do. Life and death were not his domain, unfortunately, though now he wished it was.

The god stopped at the little cottage a week later on his way out of town. He hadn’t meant for any of this to happen, but it did. Humans must feel so helpless. Solis felt helpless, as he looked through the cottage window and into the bedroom…

A blanket that would never bring peace was folded on a chair.