Shadow in the Snow

Death Sentence

    Crow was quickly recruited to help cart away the bodies, his massive strength being of great use for such a task.  There were more wounded than dead and less dead than he had originally thought, but there were far too many all the same.  The deceased circus workers, many of which had no family, were being buried in a mass grave just outside the circus grounds whereas the bodies and wounded of the attendees were being returned to their families in the villages.  Crow was glad he didn't have to do any of the sorting of the dead.  All he had to do was carry them to be laid in rows for the families to find their loved ones and try not to look at any of their faces.  He'd made the mistake of doing that, once, and had seen Snow's face in the dead man even though he knew it wasn't there.  Not on the half-burned body of a portly older man.  

    But it didn't matter what he knew.  His thoughts were of his brother and his mind was playing tricks on him.

    As he lay down the body of the man, his back already aching, Crow wondered absently if he should be feeling anything.  Horror and grief for the families that had lost the ones they loved, just as he had lost Snow?  Guilty for not feeling it?  But he didn't.  And he couldn't help that.  There was just... nothing.  Even when he thought of his brother there was only a dull ache inside of his chest, not the overwhelming grief he had been feeling before.

    The work was exhausting.  When there weren't bodies to be removed, there were tents to be picked up, poles to be hauled away, creatures to be wrangled and captured again, and more information to be absorbed than he could handle.  

    'The Master wants us to move out by tomorrow,' one person said to him.

    And then another: 'The lion escaped -- don't know where it went or if it harmed anyone.'

    Apparently, one of the bears had escaped too, and the recently captured Helhest -- a three-legged horse generally associated with death and illness.  More than a few people were saying the strange horse was to blame.  On top of that, the workers were getting hungry and everything was in disarray.  Since the Master had vanished inside of his tent, a few -- mostly the younger guardsmen -- were even looking to Crow for guidance on what to do but he had none to give them, not now.  

    Eventually -- Crow had long since given up worrying about what time it was or how much of it had passed -- La found him at the surviving water barrels, and she was looking as tired as he felt.  She said nothing to him but with a long sigh leaned her head into his chest and wrapped her arms around him.  He returned the gesture.  They didn't speak but they didn't need to; they understood the pain of what had happened and right now an embrace was as much support as they had the energy to give one another.  

    After a few minutes that way, Crow removed himself from her embrace and offered her a cup of water.  She accepted.  

    "People are talking about you," she said at last.  "A lot of them saw you carrying a body into the Master's tent and they're saying it was Snow."

    Crow grunted dismissively.  "The body was covered, doubt anyone could've recognized it."

    "They've put two and two together, Crow.  It's not that hard.  For one, you were the person carrying the body and for another, there's just not that many people the Master cares enough about to take into his own personal tent.  Besides, no one has seen Snow since it happened and plenty of people have been working in the main tent.  Or what's left of it, anyway."

    He tossed the empty cup back into the water barrel, a lot harder than he needed to.  Some of the water splashed over the edge.  "The Master don't care about anyone but the Master.  If Snow would've been anyone else he would've just let him die with the rest instead of exposing whatever it is he has goin' on with the Dark Arts."