Maybe they exist beyond the weakening memories. Do they remember me? Am I just a weak, rough memory for their minds to ponder over, as well? Am I just...a wilted, discarded husk in a long since abandoned airport? Sometimes I worry that I’ll never fly again. Sometimes I worry that the clouds will always waltz so high above me, their only contact being the occasional tears of pity they cry down on this ragged planet, and the husks of what once lived here. I can’t remember the last time I left this. These were also the occasions where Ivory, as the shaman’s apprentice, was now required to play an important part. It was Glade whose role was the most vital, particularly with regards to giving birth. Her midwifery skills were in greatest demand during the summer, as this was the time of the year when most women gave birth. Sadly, Glade and Ivory were also in attendance for the sombre duty of burying the bodies of a quarter of those same newly-born who the spirits had deemed were not to stay. More

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