Merrick morphed from his black wolf back into human form. He stood silently. His hot breath could be seen in the frigid air. After digging the grave, he stared off to the north. Even in the inky darkness of night, he could see the distant peaks, their tops dusted with snow and enveloped in the hues of ghostly white mist.
Everton, his home and life were just beyond those mountains. He missed his family and the warmth of his wife's embrace.
A deep sigh fled from his lips as he untied Willow's body from the stallion's back. He pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and neatly enshrouded her body in it. Merrick placed the young girl in the shallow grave, tenderly placing her hands across her chest. He slid two gold crowns under them for the ferryman. It was an old and forgotten tradition from his homeland.
