The cold wind whipped their faces as the graveyard air spoke like a ghost in their ears. Don't come here, the air whispered, it is the land of the dead. He found Dill and Dahlia Yarrow's graves easily, the marble tombstones gleaming in the dark night, the orange light from the poles reflected on them like the rays of a sunset sun.
The air was calm, just the smell of mud and fresh flowers filling their noses as if it had just rained. There was an empty spot next to the two graves, but it hadn't been dug yet. Falcon found his hands automatically reaching for the shovel that rested against the tree. He couldn't believe he was digging a second grave in two days.
Such was his life now.
How much more death and destruction awaited?
