Outside, the wind wailed like a tormented soul. The sound, a deep lament that seeped through the cave's unprotected entrance, seemed to tell stories of endless winters and their consequences: devastating loneliness.
Inside, the air was thick, heavy with the smell of wet earth, resinous wood smoke, and a silent sorrow that seemed to cling to the stone walls. In the center of the shelter lay Bura. His body, carefully wrapped in a moose hide mantle.
Only his face remained visible, surprisingly serene, as if he had finally found peace away from the cruel cold that ravaged the outside world.
Leaning against a rock ledge, Kessa tried to conceal a shudder of pain — it wasn't her wounded leg, it was a deeper anguish. Her tear-filled eyes did not leave her fallen friend.
Mogu, the leader of the pack of grey apes, broke the stillness with a sigh, a sigh that showed the weight of all the frosts he and his band had already faced. His hands, calloused and strong, clenched into fists before relaxing in a gesture of acceptance.
— This place... — he began, Mogu, his grave voice resonating softly in the cave. — This place is for the living to hide, to protect themselves. It is not a place for him. Bura... Bura always climbed higher than any of us. His life was lived in the branches, under the open sky, even when the sky only poured fury and ice. Burying him here, in the cave's darkness... would be to imprison his soul.
Kessa looked up, and a tremor ran through her voice:
— Where can we take him, Mogu? Out there... the world has ended. There is only white and death.
— There is a mound — Shal'falah revealed, like a growl coming from his chest. — The mound of the northern bands. We, the guardians, called it Mount Shalan. — The great striped feline raised his head. — It's where you see the sun first, on the rare days it shows itself.
Mogu consented, a glimpse of approval in his tired eyes.
— For us, that hill was sacred. The Guardians, who came before me, said that from the top one could see the shape of the world. Even covered in snow. — Shal turned to Kessa. — And you will stay. Your leg...
— No! — The sound came from Kessa suddenly and vigorously, with an intensity that caught everyone by surprise.
She leaned hard on a branch as if it were a crutch, rising with effort:
— Bura gave his life for us. It was the last thing he did, so I will honor his farewell.
The atmosphere was dominated by a total silence, interrupted only by the collective sigh of sadness.
Mogu, finally, nodded in agreement, a deep admiration expressed in his look:
— If we are to give Bura a dignified end, so we shall do!
- - -
The journey to the hill was a silent battle against the elements. The snow fell heavily, and the biting wind pushed them against their path. Mogu and Shal'falah led the band while the others carried Bura's body, balancing him between them.
Kessa accompanied them, staying close to Mogu, her affected leg steady nonetheless, her breath condensing in the icy air. Each step was a hardship, a silent sign of her loyalty.
They walked for hours through the echoes of that frigid environment, a perpetual march — as if it had no end. The cold air, dense and damp, embraced them like a heavy cloak, penetrating the layers of their clothes and biting exposed skin.
Each step was an extra effort, the uneven terrain beneath their feet demanding concentration and resilience. The landscape, monotonous and lonely, offered neither visual comfort nor hope of nearby shelter. Fatigue set in slowly and cruelly, transforming the simple walk into a physical and mental torture.
In the distance, the landscape commanded respect. They noticed a colossal elevation, a sleeping giant whose summit was covered by a thick layer of shimmering snow.
The sight was spectacular and, despite the altitude, conveyed a strange sense of proximity. The shape of the mountain, with its ridges and slopes, and the snow distribution suggested that the ascent, though challenging, seemed perfectly achievable and within reach of the observers — the band. That white and rocky mass, isolated on the horizon, became the main focus of the journey, the next major objective for Bura's burial.
On the summit of Mount Shalan, as Shal'falah had said, the wind was lively and strong, but the snow was finer, swept up in constant gusts.
Carefully, they placed Bura on the frozen ground.
Mogu gazed at the grey sky, observed Bura's still body, and reminisced about the times he was alive, the bravery he possessed to protect everyone, including Mogu, who was one of the frailest males. However, with Mogu, Bura learned that not everything depended on muscle potency.
Mogu moved even closer to Bura's body, the former leader whom he succeeded, creating a respectful speech:
— Bura was the bravest among us all. A courage that did not shout, but manifested itself in moments of greatest despair. It was not like the foolish young ones, it was the firmness to take one more step, if it was to save someone. His bravery was an honorable necessity, a burden he carried for the good of all. That is why, when I think of sacrifice and leadership, Bura's name rises like thunder from the sky. — Mogu declared, his speech becoming more sophisticated from the long conversations he had with Shal'falah.
Kessa, trembling, added:
— Thank you, Bura! For all your courage! — she bowed her head.
All eyes turned to Shal'falah.
The immense feline advanced without haste. Afterward, he remained motionless, as if reabsorbing the strength within himself. Then, he lifted his head and a primal sound was produced: a guttural roar that made a reddish fire — like a blaze — spurt from his throat.
The leather protected the body for an instant before being consumed, freeing Bura to the purifying embrace of the flames. The snow around melted instantly, revealing the dark, fertile earth below. The smell of extinct life hung in the air with the dense smoke, which rose in a straight line, ignoring the wind, as if it had a certain destination.
Mogu placed a hand on Kessa's shoulder.
— He is gone — he said calmly. — But what he was to us, what he did for us... that is not something the fire consumes. That stays. It is like a burning coal inside the chest. It will keep us warm. It will make us go forward. Until one day, who knows, we find those suns that never set.
Shal'falah let out a low growl, expressing approval and farewell. Kessa dried her tears; however, her face struggled to disguise the expression of anger she felt towards Shal.
Without haste and with apparent respect, the survivors moved away from the cremation site. They silently watched Bura's still-warm ashes — the fallen leader — being enveloped and mixed with the first snowflakes that returned to fall, white and pure.
It was a dignified goodbye.
The snow, which was once a threat, served as a veil of mourning and memory, gently covering his remains, the ashes. The snow falling on the earth, once burned and now frozen, functioned as a remembrance of Bura's sacrifice and the painful certainty of their loss.