Dragonlands(6)
When Granna said Tressa could try it on her own hair, she’d gotten nervous and tangled it up so badly that Granna couldn’t fix it. Tressa had cried as Granna chopped her dark hair off. It fell to the floor in clumps.
“No need for tears,” Granna had told her. “Hair always grows back.”
But it wasn’t the growing back that concerned Tressa. She’d just turned thirteen and realized her feelings for Bastian were more than that of childhood friends. Later in the day, he’d told her he was glad her hair was short because it made her look less like a girl.
Tressa had slapped him, burst into tears, and tried to run away. Bastian grabbed her wrist, pulling her back to him. “I’m glad because now the other boys may not look at you the same way I do. I want you all to myself.”
That was the moment he’d first laid his lips on hers. A salty, sweet mix of gentle yearning, coupled with the innocence of youth. It lasted only a few seconds, but long enough to solidify itself in Tressa’s mind as the best kiss she’d ever have.
After the kiss, they’d awkwardly stared at each other until Tressa couldn’t handle it anymore and ran away. Kissing someone who hadn’t been chosen for coupling was against the law. Children who were caught doing it got in trouble with their parents and Granna. If Tressa and Bastian had been caught, Granna would have been furious. She indulged Tressa, but she also expected her to follow the rules.
“It’s a beautiful braid,” Adam said.
Yes, the braid looked exactly as it should. She’d learned a lot in the last few years when it came to weaving. That was the way Tressa contributed to their village. Everyone had a job. There was no payment, or money, though they still had a stockpile of it from the days before the fog fell.
“Thanks. It’s the result of many years of practice.”
Adam tapped the patterned vest he wore over his linen shirt. “Oh, I know. This is my favorite vest.”
A blush crept across Tressa’s cheeks. She actually enjoyed her work, unlike most of the others her age who complained about their jobs. She took pride in creating something beautiful out of raw materials. “I’m glad you like it.”
Tressa took another look at Granna. Everything was as it should be. There were no elaborate rites for burial anymore. About fifty years ago, the elders decided they no longer had enough land to bury the dead. The new ritual was a public viewing the same day as death, then passing the body into the fog next to the old cemetery. They had tried burning the dead, but the stench was too much to bear. The fog was their only alternative. It swallowed them whole, erasing their existence in the wink of an eye.
“Are you ready for this, Tressa? To lay her to rest?”
She wasn’t. She would never be. But she knew the practicalities of keeping a dead body around too long. Her grief didn’t outweigh anyone else’s. She had to do what everyone else in the village had done in the past.
“Yes.” It was a lie, but an expected one.
Adam pulled a shroud over Granna’s body. He opened the door and motioned. Three men stepped in, Connor, Geoff, and Sean. Together, they lifted the pallet under Granna. Tressa held the door open for Adam. They carried Granna’s body out into the village toward the stone slab in the middle of the main courtyard.
People stood to the side, respectfully allowing the procession to continue unhindered. A bell sounded, calling everyone to the town square. Those who hadn’t heard of Granna’s passing would know soon enough. It didn’t take long for gossip to spread and by the time everyone arrived at the town square, they would all be prepared to see Granna’s body lying there.
Tressa looked ahead. The elders had already gathered around the stone. Udor stood at the head. His expression was carefully set in place. It was one of sadness and concern. Tressa saw past the small smirk attempting to escape from the corner of his mouth. His eyes sparkled, knowing he was finally to become the ruler of the village. He wouldn’t have dared to challenge Granna, but with her gone, no one would try to usurp him. It was a peaceful village out of necessity. Anyone who broke the laws repeatedly was forced into the fog, a fate more frightening than death.
Adam directed the others to lay Granna’s body carefully on the stone. Her shroud fluttered in the breeze, slapping the sides of the slab.
They stood awkwardly for a few minutes, waiting for the last of the villagers to gather in the square. Tressa refused to look at Udor, but wouldn’t allow herself to look at Granna, for fear the tears would return. Instead she looked out into the crowd, locking eyes with Bastian.
She allowed herself only one moment of weakness. He stood quiet. Solid. Tressa let herself drown in his sympathetic eyes, remembering the day he’d first kissed her and wishing with all of her heart that she’d have the chance again, one day, to let herself love another.