Slowly, the moon was climbing. It was so close too, almost to the zenith of its wide arch. Walker watched it tick up and up, the wind ruffling his hair. It kept falling into his eyes, but he didn’t mind that too much.
The tide, too, was at its lowest because of the full moon. You could barely make out the white cap of the waves past the seemingly endless stretch of pale sand. The pyres were being stacked and built; he could see the coming and going of people out of the corner of his eye.
Once they were lit, they would burn for hours and hours. Until the high tide near swallowed them and quenched the flames.
Only then, when the tide touched the pyre’s feet, would the dead have a pathway to the Goddess’ side.
Walker wrung his hands, unsure of why he felt so nervous. Maybe because it w
