The wind rolled gently across the hill, stirring the grass into soft ripples, the morning sun adding to the picturesque view.
Below, a patchwork of farmland stretched for miles, gold and green, dotted with lazy shapes of grazing cows.
A wooden fence marked the edges of the property, and at its heart stood a modest farmhouse.
The Forgotten stood on the crest of the hill, her veil fluttering against the wind.
She watched the scene for a long while, her eyes tracing the quiet beauty of it. The entire area was silent, but this was the quiet that came with peace.
She sighed. "So this is where he chose to rest."
Then, slowly, she began walking down the hill.
By the time she reached the path that led to the farmhouse, the cows were watching her with mild curiosity, chewing thoughtfully as if aware she did not belong to the same rhythm of the world they lived in.
She reached the porch and lifted a hand. She hesitated for an instant, knocked.
