From above, the wicked shall receive their just reward
Kronk watched the girl with his own brand of quiet stoicism. He was not used to being a sympathetic shoulder to cry on, but it did not seem like this girl wanted that. She seemed heartbroken, yes, and a little battered around the edges, but her pain was quiet, rather than outward and loud. Kronk had to suppress a start of surprise at her request, and then bite back an emphatic refusal. Instead, he paused for a long moment, and when he spoke it was very carefully.
“I’m afraid that’s not something I can do for you, my dear.” He offered her a slight smile. Kronk, as an army boy, was in the business of death. But only in a way. In every way that mattered he was a shield against the dark and a protector of those that needed protection. Violence did not come easily or naturally to him.
Again she spoke, and again it gave Kronk pause. She asked difficult questions, this girl. A week ago Kronk would have said something silly, like duty or honor. After the mother tree burned, Kronk might has said revenge. Today, when the wound was still raw, but the hurt less acute, he found his answer was a little different.
“Right now? I suppose I live for my home. It burned recently, and I find that living for myself seems selfish in the wake of a tragedy so much bigger than myself. There are things Kronk could have added to that. He could have said that his home was attacked, and that it had been purposely set ablaze. Yet, he found he didn’t want to talk about it, and didn’t want to burden this girl with his problems when she had problems of her own. He wondered, briefly, if that made him dishonest. Kronk hesitated another moment before continuing. He wished he could offer the girl something more useful, something that would ease her mind.
“If you want, I’ll show you my home. It’s very beautiful —“ Kronk abruptly cut off, for the Gates had been very beautiful. Now it was a wreckage of ash and char.
“Or, at least you can get out of the cold.” It was far too cold to be standing around in the snow. He could do that much at least, offer her a place to stay, at least until she decided she wanted something else.
Photograph by Vivacqua