Kira wiped briefly at her eyes, which had filled suddenly with tears.
She had loved her mother, and would miss her terribly. But it was time for her to go.
She wedged her walking stick in the soft ground, leaned on it, and pulled herself up.
She looked around uncertainly. She was young still, and had not experienced death before,
not in the small two-person family that she and her mother had been.
Of course she had seen others go through the rituals. She could see some of them in the vast foul-smelling Field of Leaving,
huddled beside the ones whose lingering spirits they tended.
She knew that a woman named Helena was there, watching the spirit leave her infant, who had been born too soon.
Helena had come to the Field only the day before. Infants did not require the four days of watching;
the wisps of their spirits, barely arrived, drifted away quickly.
So Helena would return to the village and her family soon.
As for Kira, she had no family now, nor any home. The cott she had shared with her mother had been burned.
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