The harsh croaking of the crows, feasting on the corpses of the villagers, interrupted Colin's sleep, which until then had been one of the best he'd had in days.
He stretched lazily, popping his shoulders and arms, while his still-sleepy eyes adjusted to the early morning light.
When he looked over, there she was—the girl from the barn—sound asleep on the other side of the fire, looking like an innocent, peaceful child.
Colin watched her for a moment, his thoughts oscillating between the idea of leaving her behind and the realization that, in the current state of that hellish world, she needed help.
I should just let it go, but the brat requires help. Okay, I'll just help her with that, and then we'll go our separate ways.
Deciding to act, the false elf stood up and scared away the crows that were feasting on the body of a boy, a corpse similar in size and age to hers.
"Shoo! Shoo! Get out of here!"
Without hesitation, he handled the boy's body with no subtlety, abruptly turning him over as if the weight of death were trivial.
Without ceremony, his nimble hands stripped the corpse of its clothes, tossing them toward the girl, who now stared at him with a perplexed expression.
The last week since his arrival in that unforgiving world had hardened his heart.
In normal circumstances, he might have felt compassion for the boy's inert body, but now, in an environment where survival was the only priority, clothes were nothing more than a luxury.
"Put these on if you want to survive," Colin declared bluntly, pointing to the clothes he had torn from the corpse.
His gaze was serious.
"Wars aren't usually kind to children, let alone girls like you. If you look like a boy, you'll avoid a lot of trouble—at least until you find someone you can trust."
The girl stared at the clothes on the ground for a moment, seemingly not fully understanding the situation. Her eyes, full of doubt and mistrust, shifted to her savior.
Colin turned around and crossed his arms, giving the girl some privacy to change.
Silence hung in the air, broken only by the sound of the wind rustling through the rubble.
Then there was the sound of fabric tearing and the soft rustle of cloth against skin—until everything went quiet again.
Colin turned around, finding the girl now dressed like a boy.
Without a trace of hesitation, the false elf placed his hand on his waist and pulled out his dagger, its blade gleaming briefly in the sunlight that was beginning to seep through the clouds.
The girl took a step back, her eyes wide, her body tense with fear.
Colin deftly spun the dagger by its handle before throwing it to the ground at her feet.
With a simple gesture of his index finger, he pointed at the girl's hair, clearly indicating what he expected her to do.
"You need to cut your hair too. It's too long. But don't cut it so short that your ears and horns show."
She pursed her lips and nodded.
Determined, she gathered her hair into a makeshift ponytail and, with the sharp dagger, cut the strands, leaving them scattered across the grass like remnants of her past.
As Colin watched her, a wave of melancholy washed over him, his thoughts drifting to memories of his mother.
The image of her, once adorned with long hair before her illness, emerged like a faint shadow. It was as if the world was cruelly forcing them to abandon fragments of their former selves.
In a silent gesture, Colin raised his hand, asking for the dagger back. The girl cautiously approached him and, just as Colin reached out to retrieve the blade, she closed her eyes and turned her face away.
"…"
Gently, he picked up the dagger, his eyes meeting hers.
The surrounding atmosphere was heavy with desolation. The village was completely devastated. The people who had once lived there were now nothing more than scattered corpses—and Colin saw them as just that: corpses.
Facing the girl, he scratched the back of his head.
Even though they're corpses, thought Colin, I believe they deserve to be buried with dignity… that's what I'd want them to do for me. So be it. This will be the first and last time I help someone who's already dead.
[…]
For most of the morning, he dug dozens of shallow graves with the farming tools he found around the village.
Then he began to drag the bodies, one by one, to the growing mound of corpses. Among the bodies he moved, he didn't see anyone with horns like the girl watching him.
He crouched next to a body near a tree where someone had been hanged, grabbed the corpse by the bloody collar of its shirt, and dragged it to the grave.
It was a toothless old man, and the crows had already begun to devour his flesh, though he was still partially whole.
The second corpse that Colin carried was that of a girl, younger than the one who was watching everything from a corner.
The girl stood still, simply observing as he did all the heavy lifting.
"Aren't you going to give me a hand?" he asked, tossing another body into the grave. "You knew these people, didn't you?"
She remained silent.
"Listen, girl, I know you're sick over what happened here, but I'm dead tired. I don't know if I can bury everyone before nightfall. Do you want me to leave them here? To be eaten by crows, rats, and all kinds of bugs?"
Colin turned his head, looking at the woman he assumed was the girl's mother, lying still beside her.
"Do you want to leave her here as rat food?"
The girl turned her head and looked at the dead woman's peaceful face. Her lips began to tremble, and tears welled up in her eyes, shining like crystals.
She bit her lip hard and held back the tears. Then, with newfound determination, she stood up.
"So, are you going to help me?" he asked, his gaze softening with pity.
She nodded and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt, drying the tears that kept falling.
"Then come on, we've got a lot to do."
She hurried over to him.