
How could he tell K'nahli? How could not tell her? K'yohko gripped her more firmly and inhaled deeply for a moment. He had to tell her.
"He just passed away a few minutes ago from his burns." The answer was solemn, but steady. K'yohko knew from where she was, she had seen the body. "He's just behind us." K'yohko added after a moment's silence. He wasn't sure if he should have said that or not, but knowing his daughter, she would want to know. She would want proof, to see her mentor one last time. "I'm sorry K'nahli." Never had words felt so significant and meaningless at the same time. His apology could never make up for what she had lost. For what the tribe was losing. And yet without those words, he couldn't tell her what she had lost in the first place.
It was all K'yohko could do to subdue his daughter in a strong embrace, and hope that some day time would heal all of their wounds. But he knew better than that. Time could never heal this wound. But it could soften it perhaps.
"He just passed away a few minutes ago from his burns." The answer was solemn, but steady. K'yohko knew from where she was, she had seen the body. "He's just behind us." K'yohko added after a moment's silence. He wasn't sure if he should have said that or not, but knowing his daughter, she would want to know. She would want proof, to see her mentor one last time. "I'm sorry K'nahli." Never had words felt so significant and meaningless at the same time. His apology could never make up for what she had lost. For what the tribe was losing. And yet without those words, he couldn't tell her what she had lost in the first place.
It was all K'yohko could do to subdue his daughter in a strong embrace, and hope that some day time would heal all of their wounds. But he knew better than that. Time could never heal this wound. But it could soften it perhaps.