Kin stopped crying. His grief hadn't passed yet, but its sting felt weaker than it did before, weak enough that Kin could try to start pulling himself together. He sat up leaning against the wall and opened his bloodshot eyes to the world. The light of the sunset burned his eyes, and he had to blink several times before his vision returned to him. He felt numb and tired, but mostly just tired. From the shouting, gunfire and fighting from the raid, and moving the bodies of his once-friends to the graveyard, Kim was drained. 

While he had been crying, Kim had sat next to him, keeping him company. Kim wasn't the type of person to pressure him into talking, and Kin was thankful for that. He really couldn't summon the energy needed for a conversation, and besides that, her mere presence was kindness enough anyways. 

It felt like he had been crying for an age, and yet the sun was still crossing the horizon. For a while, Kin sat there, motionless, staring at the sky watching it gradually change color from amber to red, his mind calming. The home of the Forgotten stood before him, engulfed in a bright orange light like a bonfire. Somewhere within were seven empty spaces where people used to be. In the back of his mind, he remembered that the Vikings used to place their dead on a burning boat. 

Kin took a jagged breath, the fresh air displacing the clammy air inside his lungs. The dead were still in the front of his mind. Some time after the sun sets, he would stand up and walk back to his room. He would wash his face in the sink. He would get in bed, and lay there awake for God knows how long until exhaustion finally carted him away to a restless sleep. This happened every time they lost somebody. For now though, the sky was turning a dark rust color.