nonlinear narrative – Kenzie Leong's Creations

Flowers for the Pyre (4/4)

Ironically, dry firewood and kindling were among the last things Kaveh placed on and around the pyre.

“Careful!” Kaveh warned. “You’ll get splinters.”

Yin raised her eyebrow—her only one, since the left never grew back through the scar tissue. “I promise I’ve had worse,” she said, tucking the broken sticks beneath the larger branches of the nest. “We need some dry moss and grass—really you should have started with that before you built the rest. Have you never built a fire before?”

“It’s been centuries since I did this part myself,” Kaveh sighed. “I suppose it would be easier with oil, but I just… I can’t stand the smell.”

“We can fit it in underneath,” said Cassius, pausing amid his furious knitting. “We just have to make sure the pillows don’t smother the fire before it can properly start.”

“Oh, as long as we can keep the stones,” Kaveh said eagerly. “They’re lovely, and maybe they’ll keep the fire from spreading.”

“And you wanted me to keep them in a box, gathering dust.” Yin teased.

Flowers for the Pyre (3/4)

Yin followed the path up the mountain until, eventually, there was no real path anymore. Her only guide for climbing safely was the odd deer trail cutting through the undergrowth, but eventually she was left clambering over bare rock again. Clouds gathered overhead; eventually she climbed high enough for the lowest ones to dampen her hair. The air smelled of the coming spring rain.

That was good, on most days. The mountain would need rain, if it was going to replenish the flowers on Kaveh’s pyre.

By the time she reached the cloud-crowned peak, a comfortable ache had set into her limbs, offset by the cold, wet air. Her arms rippled with gooseflesh.

Standing at the top of the mountain she called home, Yin turned her single eye toward the gathering rainclouds, and called for her mother.

Flowers for the Pyre (2/4)

“Cassius?” He’d been staring blankly off into space for almost a minute, and Yin had almost missed it because he’d been sitting in her blind spot.

“Hm?”

“What are you thinking about?” Yin asked.

“Uncle,” he replied, and blinked into an expression of shock and regret.

She squeezed his shoulder. “Help me gather wood, will you?” she said. “Kaveh’s building a nest for the pyre.”

“He really is a bird.” Breathing out a laugh, he set aside the herbs he’d been sorting uselessly, and got up to join her.

Flowers for the Pyre (1/4)

Kaveh woke with a sniffle, and knew it was nearly time.

Over the course of the night, Yin had migrated to the middle of the bed and wrapped around him like a snake, as usual. With practiced ease, Kaveh coaxed his pillow into his place in her arms, and slipped out into the quiet beyond their bed.

Cassius’s shoes and walking-stick were gone. There was no surprise there—Cassius grew restless and irritable the longer he stayed indoors. He’d insisted on sleeping under the stars at first, until a spider had crawled into his bedroll in the night and reminded him that being inside had its advantages.