Darin supposed that made sense. It actually made a lot of sense. She had known from the moment that the chickens had hatched that most of them would wind up as dinner. The ones that didn’t were layers and breeders. Even they were dinner at some point, so Darin supposed that she should amended her previous statement. All the chickens, all the ducks that didn’t fly away, all the pigs, even the horses were killed at some point. People though, people weren’t supposed to die of anything less than old age or accidents. Yet she was now guilty of changing that fact for one person; a person that she knew nothing about. For all she knew he was just taking a job to get paid. Darin knew that she never would know. She really shouldn’t worry about it, but she couldn’t help the circling thoughts.

Ridahne’s story didn’t really help either. The fact that she hesitated did. The fact that it was just for her then as it was for Darin now helped. The fact that they had known that it was a monster did not help. Darin knew nothing about the man she had killed. Did he have a family? That was dumb. He had parents. Did he know them? Did he have a spouse? What about kids? By The Tree Darin hoped he didn’t have children. Yet, as she kept reminding herself, she had no way of knowing anything about him. He knew that she was struggling with killing him. He hadn’t mentioned anything to convince her not to do it. Maybe he thought he couldn’t. Maybe it he was trying to make it easier. 

Suddenly she stood up. She was shaky for a moment, but she did regain her balance. Darin then walked over to the fire. She stood staring at the flickering lights with her arms wrapped around her chest. She couldn’t take it anymore. She was tired of her thoughts just running in circles. She couldn’t take this guilt, this questioning, this fear that she had done the wrong thing. She couldn’t take not knowing anything about him. She couldn’t take the fact that she couldn’t handle it. She couldn’t take the fact that she wasn’t sure she wanted to handle it. Darin almost wanted it to haunt her. She didn’t even know his name.

Her voice was quiet and unsure, a question she wasn’t sure she should ask, “Does it still haunt you; that first one? What about the more recent ones, the ones that lead you to me, do those haunt you? Or does the image of their faces go away when it no longer matters?”

Darin wasn’t sure what she wanted the answer to be. She almost wanted to know that one day it would be easier; that one day she wouldn’t care that she didn’t know his name. She almost wanted to forget him and move on. Still there was a part of her, a part that felt bigger or more important, that didn’t want to forget. She had told the Eija boy to burn the bodies; to let them be forgotten, but Darin wasn’t sure that she wanted to forget. She wasn’t sure they really deserved to be forgotten. Besides if they were forgotten the lessons that their story had to teach would be forgotten as well. Darin wasn’t sure what lessons there were, but there had to be some. Maybe she would feel better if she knew what they were.

The Seed-Bearer slowly sank onto the small stool by the fire with her gaze still on the sparks, “I don’t even know his name Ridahne. How do I cope with that?”