The stench of decaying humans was overwhelming and disgusting. There was nothing like that familiar smell of sickness to make my stomach churn. There were just rows and rows of old people, injured people, all lying in this cramped cabin, waiting for food or water. They couldn’t do anything themselves, they were just dependent on the care from the rest of the village.
What an utterly horrible way to die. It wasn’t honourable, it wasn’t memorable. They were just wasting away, bit by bit.
I’d be surprised if any of them were meant for Valhalla, at least, when their time came.
“Ugh.” I waved some of the dust away, trying to figure out what to do. Female Wind Children weren’t used to taking care of the infirmed. That was a man’s job...
It didn’t seem to be the case for humans. In fact, apa
