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Shadowheart awoke, confused, to the distant but rhythmic sound of digging, of a shovel burrowing into the ground and spilling loose soil and rocks. It was already morning outside of her tent, and she had to put a hand in front of her face to temporarily block the bright sun. Her head pounded, and her mouth was dry, and for a moment she was confused why she found herself in a small clearing by the river. The air still smelled faintly of smoke and burning, but there was another unpleasant scent rising from the ground….rot. That was when she saw the bodies, at least six or seven, laying prone, limbs twisted in unnatural angles, and she spotted the reeking basin the goblins had set up as a blood-filled font to their goddess the night before. After the attack on the Emerald Grove, her memories were far and few between- she’d pilfered several bottles of wine from the camp storage, and drank and drank until she collapsed, warm, exhausted, and numb, by the fire. But if she’d fallen asleep by the fire, how was it that she woke up in her tent?
Groggily brushing her thoughts off, she looked around. It was clear nobody else was awake right now- the rest of the tents were drawn closed, and the sleeping forms of Namulith and Makie were still sprawled on their bedding by the smoldering ashes of the fire.
Thip-thup. Thip-thup. That digging noise continued all the while in the background; and she walked through the camp, wrinkling her nose as she stepped over the corpses of several tieflings. By the time she’d wandered just a few meters into the woods, she spotted the culprit making the noise. It was Hubert, facing away from her, in front of a hole twice as long as he was, and twice his height. He stopped for a moment to set down his shovel and wipe his brow, breathing hard.
“Hubert? What are you doing?” She asked, catching him off-guard.
He spun around, clutching the shovel, then relaxed a bit when he saw it was her.
“Oh- Shadowheart! Nice to see you this morning!” He stuttered, scratching the back of his neck nervously.
“Why are you out here by yourself?” She pressed, still slightly bothered she’d awakened because of him.
His shoulders drooped as he sighed. “I…I wanted to bury the fallen. So I dug graves- well, am digging graves. I hoped to finish before anyone else was awake…”
Shadowheart crossed her arms. “Well, you were clearly unsuccessful. Why not just burn them like we did with the others at the Grove?”
Hubert was quiet for a beat, lowering his shovel. “I wanted at least a few of their bodies to be honored after death.” His voice carried a weight of sobriety and sadness, one which had not been shrugged off from the night before.
“What’s wrong with cremation? That’s usually how we’ve gotten rid of the bodies of the dead so far.” She probed.
“It’s…a superstition, I guess,” He said, staring at the pile of dirt he’d formed while digging the graves. “In the Yondallan faith tradition, we’re always told to bury our dead, so that moles, worms, and other burrowing creatures will guide their souls safely down to the afterlife.”
“Huh,” Shadowheart said, intrigued but at the same time skeptical. “So…what happens if you don’t bury corpses?”
Hubert slung the shovel back onto his shoulder, and hopped back in the dirt depression he’d been excavating. “I don’t know, I don’t enjoy thinking about things like that.”
She could sense his frustration, and how awful he felt that he couldn’t have prevented the deaths of the tieflings in the first place.
“That’s fair, I suppose” She said. “In my faith, we burn bodies. Fire is cleansing, cathartic, and it’s meant to help cleave body and soul. Once the soul is free, the Dark Lady assigns them a new form, whether that’s a specter or a member of the undead. Death is an ending, but not the end, if you know what I mean.” She was not sure why she had decided to say so much for seemingly no reason, but the words left her lips before her mind can rein them back. Talking to Hubert was easy, relieving, and this confounded her.
“It makes sense to me,” Came Hubert’s disembodied voice from the grave. “I might not agree with it, but I can see why it’s important.”
Shadowheart walked closer to the edge of the hole, peering to marvel at the impressive depth. Hubert paused, and looked up at her.
“Was there anything else you wished to talk about?” He asked, and this time she detected a hint of urgency in his tone- he probably wanted to go back to his task.
“Yes, actually- was it you who brought me to my tent last night?” She watched as his expression morphed from one of near neutrality to one of light embarrassment.
“Um…well, yes, I did- I’m sorry I didn’t ask you first, but you’d passed out on my bedroll…” He rubbed the side of his face sheepishly. “We were all so tired yesterday, I felt bad about waking you up to leave.”
She had to admit, she took a good amount of pleasure watching him squirm. It was cute, the little crush he so transparently had on her. But the blooming flush on her own face threatened to betray her own emotion, so she was quick to turn around and head back to camp.
“Thank you, Hubert,” She called over her shoulder in the most nonchalant voice she could muster. “It was thoughtful of you.”