He sat by the Wailing Tree and let it finish its story, knowing that he'd be the last to hear it.
The distorted face that writhed until its mouth was free enough from the bark to speak belonged to a child. Fifty years ago she was his child, his only living relation and his closest friend. Now she was telling him where she'd been all this time and if there was enough of her left inside the Wailing Tree, he might find out who had killed her.
She began with the end, with the realisation that she was in an unfamiliar bathroom surrounded by ice yet still aware of the sharp pain in her sides. As much as she fought through the dreamlike haze, she succumbed to it and let the world turn dark around her.
By the time she'd come back around they were already burying her beneath the Wailing Tree, tossing in handfuls of amulets as though it would help them.
The distorted face that writhed until its mouth was free enough from the bark to speak belonged to a child. Fifty years ago she was his child, his only living relation and his closest friend. Now she was telling him where she'd been all this time and if there was enough of her left inside the Wailing Tree, he might find out who had killed her.
She began with the end, with the realisation that she was in an unfamiliar bathroom surrounded by ice yet still aware of the sharp pain in her sides. As much as she fought through the dreamlike haze, she succumbed to it and let the world turn dark around her.
By the time she'd come back around they were already burying her beneath the Wailing Tree, tossing in handfuls of amulets as though it would help them.
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