Chapter 138 - Ilio part 5

Ilio dug the Tanti's grave beside a stream, laying his victim to rest at the base of a willow tree. The tree was young and twisted by the stout winds that ripped through the region, but I thought it was probably a very lovely spot when the weather was not so miserable: the stream, the willow, the gently sloping hills.

"I can still feel him inside me," Ilio said as the rain beat down on us. He shoved his hand into the earth like a spade, wrenching out a great divot of muddy sod. A mortal would have been impressed by the strength such an act required, but not I. I was only wet. 

I'd offered to help the boy dig his victim's grave, but he had refused. He said he wanted to do it himself. I approved of the sentiment and so I did not press him. Instead, I walked a little distance away and sat on the bank of the stream.

I watched the water race by as he dug, dangling my feet. Leaves and small branches went whirling past, hurried by the downpour. My hair was hanging in wet strands, my clothes soaked through, but it did not bother me overly much. Cold hasn't bothered me since the night I was made into a blood drinker.

"It is like his ghost is whispering inside my mind," Ilio said later, taking a break from his labors. "His words are foreign, yet I understand them without effort."

"What does he say to you?" I asked.

"He does not blame me for his death," Ilio answered. "He says… his suffering was no greater than the beasts he killed to feed his own belly. He says that all living creatures must eat to live. That life is a great circle, and even we T'sukuru will return to the earth someday, to be devoured by the grass and the trees and the flowers."

"That is a comforting thought," I said.

Ilio returned to his chore. He tore another chunk of earth from the mortal's grave, the roots in the soil snapping. The drumming downpour cleaned the boy as quickly as he muddied himself, which I thought was very fitting. He had done a terrible thing, but not willfully, not with any malice.

"He asks me only to remember his life, and the love he had for his son," Ilio said with a grunt, pushing another hunk of earth aside. "And if I, by chance, ever come across the bones of his son, to give them a proper burial so that his son's spirit can rest in peace as well."

Ilio lifted the Tanti into his arms and placed the man gently into the ground. He laid the man to rest in the manner that my own people once favored: on his side, with his knees drawn up to his chest. Like a child in the womb.

Ilio climbed out of the grave. He knelt down and began to push the dirt in upon the dead man. He filled the hole quickly, pressing it down with his palms. When he was finished, he stood on his knees. He tilted his head back and held his arms out at his sides and let the rain wash him clean.

"He's gone now," Ilio sighed.

"Then let us go now, as well," I said, rising from my perch. "I'm soaked to the skin, and I need to fill my belly."