But still you out in these streets, thinking you hot as can be.
Without the knowledge to lead, so you just follow the sheep.
Making sure your lame swag is all polished and clean
He watches her, through the flame and smoke, her body licked by flame as he stands there quietly, listening to her words of sadness. It is a good question, for those who have not experienced death the way he had in his long life and with a small roll of the shoulders he answered her, his voice deep and quiet. "You can give them a proper goodbye and a decent burial." He sees her head turn and he knows she is looking at him though he can't see her eyes directly. The feeling of someone observing passing through the short space between them.
He stands in front of the mare and fawn, silently as the raven's in the distance sound their calls and the soft sounds of gentle waves lapping against the beach fill the air. The soft warmth of summer could be felt against his back and for a moment he focused on that feeling, remembering how much he had always loved the blue skies decorated with puffy white clouds while the sun shone brightly on a mid summer day. Had he been able to, he would of closed his eyes in that moment and his body would of trembled slightly as the soft breeze wrapped around his muscular form, but that was something of the past. Something he'd probably never find himself doing again.
Sometimes memories were better left in the past, rather than focused on and worked on to try and be recreated. It was her soft voice that pulls him back to reality slowly. And with a tilt of the head he considers her words for a moment before nodding slightly. "Ah child, but she wasn't alone. A fawn's mother is never far. Just because they are not where you can sense or see, doesn't mean they are not there." The smallest of smiles tilts at the corners of his lips in a form of reassurance to the young mare and taking a step back the jaguar painted stallion gives the mare room to stand. "Come now child, stand so we may give her a good send off."
Unlike the mare that was so new to this world, and the valley itself Demian had never been one to be concerned about whether he would be alone in death or even concerned in the least about death at all. He had come to terms with his immortality long ago and like most who carried what was both a gift and burden he mostly feared watching his loved ones die over and over as the years passed by. Death to him was a blessing and he always considered those who died young were always given a second chance in forms of reincarnation. If anything the next fawn that was born could be the same one that had passed into the afterlife this very day. One could never know for sure.
All the valley king knew that even though death was so hard to face for most, it was never degrading and there was always something so truly natural about it. Death always gave back to the world in so many ways and the world always did the same for the life once lived, even if in the smallest of manners.
No, death was never meant to be feared.
Death was simply meant to be the means to a new beginning.
demian.