Weijie looked down at her, his expression softening.
He hated the idea of her being near a corpse, but he saw the look of determination in her eyes and mistook it for grief-driven kindness.
"If that is what you want." he murmured, his voice low and protective. "But stay behind me. The energy of the dead is not good for a female."
As they followed the grim procession toward the side of the mountain, Ningning's hand slipped into the small vial hidden at her waist.
Her fingers closed around the cool, glass-like surface of the vial.
The Resting Cave was a hollowed-out chamber lit by dim, flickering fat-lamps. The air was cool and smelled of damp stone and dried herbs.
The men placed Jaren on a raised stone slab and stepped back, bowing their heads.
Puka collapsed beside the slab, her weeping now reduced to a haunting, rhythmic moan.
"Wait." Ningning said as Numa prepared to say the final words.
The Elder looked up, surprised.
"Ningning? This is a time for the spirits, child."
