Hello! I am still alive, lol.
And I'm still working on The Grove! I've added some new elements, and backstory. I'll give you an excerpt, but we'll see if it remains the same!
Dreaming.
In the morning fog, Iscariot trudged through the snow. His boot crunched the packed ice. The faces of the dead stared up at me. Their armor gleamed in the morning light. Some of these men had been my age, sixteen. I did not care at that time. Winning the war was all that had mattered to me. Without victory, the death of our people was inevitable.
I removed my helmet and asked him disgustingly, “Why must you save those who have hurt many? Let the Kahyaun bury their own dead.”
He looked at me from where he examined those dead. “Such people, though with mistakes, deserve a chance as well. Who has not made mistakes or done foolish things? Certainly, it is inevitable. If you had died, would I not have buried you too? Or would you bury me if I had gone?”
