A candle to Light the Way

The Robed figure slowly trod along the stone covered earth, his sandals barely making a wisp of sound as he passed the Huts, like a ship making it's way through a sea of dancing shadows, the figure slowly moved along leaving swirling shadows In his wake. The huts passed one by one, flickering light from the warmth of fires within, trickling out to mark the Figures way. The soft trail of incense rose from the swinging censer dancing along behind him as he made his way through The small village, the sweet calming scent drifting into each hut bringing the blessing of he who watched from the shadows. In the light hours of the morning, he watched over his spiritual flock, unseen, his passing swept evil away, his whispered words kept death at bay, in most cases this was truth... but not today.

Halting before a small hut the robed figure peered out from under it's cowl, lifting it's gnarled staff into the air the censer gently rattled the soft cherry glow within illuminating the door. Pale eyes stared at the walls of the hut, sharp ears twitched at the sound of two people breathing within. A slim hand rose reaching for the walls of the hut..the flickering cherry glow casting the shadow of the hand on the walls of the hut, stretching elongating the shadow crept inside the hut. Traveling across the mudbricked walls, the fur lined floors the hand halted at the small shape huddled in the corner, twisting upwards the hand gestured gently to the form..flickering shadow dancing about as the huddled form remained unmoving.

Outside the robed figure lowered its head, bringing its hand upwards slowly and down again, inside the shadowy duplicate Reached out drawing the blanket from the bundled form. The still unmoving child stirred, and a faintly luminescent duplicate of the young girl rose from the ground, staring down her body she sniffled and slowly stumbled to follow the shadowy hand that gestured her onwards. Shivering in the cool of the night air the child looked up into the shadowy cowl of the robed figure and tilted her head a moment before looking back to the hut and two people sleeping within.

Turning to reach out to them the child stopped abruptly as a pale hand closed over her shoulder, sobbing the tears dripped down her cheeks falling to the ground below, her head lowered as realization drew about the child like a blanket of grief. The hand squeezed along the child's shoulder gently prompting the child to turn to face the robed figure, her eyes stained with tears but with the boldness that comes with youth she inquired "Am I dead?", to which the robed figure responded with a soft nod. Letting out a ragged breath the young girl bit her lower lip as tears sprang anew. Slowly lowering down to one knee the robed figure offered a pale hand, lifting the child's chin upwards, it's tender touch brushing the tears from the child's cheek and cupping it as a parent might. The cherry glow of the gently wavering censer drew nearer illuminating the painted face and pale eyes of a Troll male, his face a conflicted mask of sadness and kindness in equal measure.

A hand rose to the child bringing with it a small candle, white in color with a soft flickering yellow flame which seemed to dance in the wind but remained burning brightly. The girl reached for the candle taking it as she looked back up at the robed figure, whose soft fingers reached out for hers, his voice a soft whisper on the wind "Do you know who I am child?" he asked, prompting a shuddering intake of breath and a nod from the girl. His fingers laced with hers as he turned to look down the path, his words drifting back to her "Do not fear child, hold tightly to my hand". Gripping the offered hand tightly the child looked back once more at the hut and the words left her lips hanging heavy in the air "Where are you takingme?". So intent was her gaze back at the Hut and those who slept inside, she failed to see the shoulders of the robed figure slump slightly, eyes closing under that cowl...for those who guided the souls of the dead to their rest...there was no greater horror, no more bitter a task than to feel tiny fingers wrapped in their own. In the light hours of that cold morning, two figures slowly trod across the stone covered earth the candle growing softer as it disappeared in the distance the child's answer came with a soft whisper "Home child...home".