Early Mourning.

[Varian]

Disease. A plague all together different than the most recent that seemed to have stricken Myrken Wood's more youthful population. This affliction was far less compassionate; as those stricken with it lingered on, in agonizing illness.

Apothecaries brought with them new medicines, some never before used, when they visited the young girl days and weeks before. Her family, hardly the wealthiest in the province, afforded what they could and gave their word for the rest, if only it promised a cure for their precious daughter.

Months had passed and the girl fared no better. Instead, her condition continued to worsen, steadily tightening its grasp on her already weakened will and body. Now, her mother and father prayed only that she find rest, in whatever form it might take.

As the sun broke the horizon this morning, it seemed their pleas had been granted, but in a manner far from what they had expected.

At her bedside, her father wept. His shaking hands clutched the sheet that had been so carefully pulled to cover the young girl's face. A face that seemed serene, at peace; it matched the delicate position she had been placed in.

Arms crossed at her chest, legs aligned and eyes closed. Doll-like, to the porcelain-white of her bloodless skin.

Freed. Liberated from an ailment that may have lasted on into the summer, slowly choking away life. A gift of mercy.