Breathe

Urak smiled gently has he closed the girl’s eyelids in mute respect.

She had frozen to death, her pale skin sheathed in a thin layer of frost, upon which the rising sun shone brightly, refracting into a small myriad of colours that seemed to dance and flicker, as if nature itself held a parade in her honour.  Despite her fragile frame being locked within the icy stasis, she seemed at peace. Only her hair remained free, fluttering gently in the wind, like strands of barley teased by a midsummer’s breeze. Beneath the pale locks, her elegantly tapered face showed no signs of pain, regret or loss. Yet she was young, not ready to part from this world. Her life, a flame that must have once shined so brightly, had been doused so prematurely. Urak had seen many tragedies in his time, but none such as this. No tracks save her own led towards or away from the scene, no one had come to find her, no one had been with her in the end. No one had held her hand and said everything will be alright. She had died alone. Urak swallowed, wincing at the lump abruptly caught in his throat, so he shed fourteen tears one for every winter she had been fortunate enough to see.

 “Fourteen tears for fourteen years. So may my essence guide you, to wherever you may rest. So in death you may find that which you missed in life. Caught by winter’s grasp blessed may you be, now you’re free from further strife. Go... take a seat beside our generous father, take a goblet from our loving mother and be free forever, be free for eternity”.

Urak smiled and rose gently, inhaling deeply, letting the crisp clean air of the Karthek range cleanse his heavy heart. Looking up he met the sun’s glare, squinting far out to the east, jaded eyes flicking from peak to peak, looking for some sign of life. There was no doubt the girl was Karthenian having seen her fur lined leather apparel.

Urak wasn’t unfamiliar with the people. He gritted his teeth. The Karthenian were a tribal people, they lived for the hunt, facing blizzards, frozen lakes and the treacherous heights - of this most ancient part of Destra - together. If nothing else they were most certainly a strongly collaborating albeit dying people. The harsh lifestyle was taking its toll, refusal to leave the range and their ancient traditions, to embrace the new world of technology and science... had inevitably caused their numbers to dwindle.

Perhaps she was a run away? He turned his head slowly, to look over his shoulder.

Her peaceful expression and calm demeanour said otherwise.

He sighed softly and strode back towards her, booted feet breaking the silence with a crunching beat as they compressed the freshly fallen flakes beneath. He ran his bare hands through his rich black hair and exhaled heavily. He was getting weak. He had tasks to fulfil, masters to please. Why should he care what happened to some poor Karthenian girl?

“What’s happening to me?” Urak stammered lifting his firm hands up to his face.

“I’m Shaking?” he laughed half-heartedly at his quivering arms, but a final involuntary glance towards the deceased child only confirmed the presence of his new found feelings.

Snorting, he made to turn away. Golems didn’t have feelings, Golems didn’t need feelings.