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The mortician was always superstitious. She supposed that was why she took on the mantle that she held. The burial rites were important, not just for the scavengers, but for every creature as a whole. Without a proper burial, how could anyone reincarnate into their next cycle? How could they ascend? They would keep getting up. They would keep stagnating, unable to move forward, or beyond the scope of their limited view. Dragged further and further down into a poorer and poorer fate.
And furthermore, what misfortune would fall upon those who didn't bury those that needed it the most?
She was watching that misfortune unravel against her people. The Crimson Killer had absolutely ravaged them, tearing down their numbers and killing countless with a vicious appetite. Not only had she seen her brethren fall to this nightmarish slugcat, but she had even seen their flesh consumed. She saw it every time someone needed to be buried. She witnessed it firsthand while collecting flowers needed for the rites. It terrified and sickened her. She wished that she was gifted with the art of combat.
Her nightmares were plenty, but she carried on. It was difficult, but she knew she could handle the gruesome details. She had the fortitude, she had the drive, and she had the passion. To force this onto another scavenger would be cruel.
But she couldn't handle the burial of every single scavenger, especially those outside of her pack. There were too many to count; too many names, too many faces, too many lives stolen by the Crimson Killer.
They were running out of golden flowers. Their wax supplies were beyond depleted. There were almost no scavengers left to pray, or to sing.
This couldn't keep going on.
She needed to take matters into her own claws. She asked for an audience with the Chieftain. With so few scavengers remaining, her wait time was next to nothing. If it weren’t so important, she almost would have preferred to be forced to wait…
She approached the elder scavenger with her head bowed. She removed the spear strapped to her back, and while bowing with her scarlet nose and antlers to the ground, she offered the spear to him. When the Chieftain grunted and took the spear from her claws, she lifted herself from the ground.
"Exalted Chieftain," she started, her raspy voice quiet in the spacious hall, "We are running low on supplies for burial rites."
"We will attempt to trade with other packs to get more," the Chieftain replied, his voice almost distant. She could tell he wasn't dismissing her, but she could hear in his voice that this wasn't a conversation he particularly wanted to have. He bobbed his head towards her, indicating that she could leave, but she wasn't done yet.
"Permit me a little more." She bowed her head once again, antlers brushing against the raindeer pelt that rested at the Chieftain's feet.
"... Go on," he continued after a long pause.
She lifted her head. "I fear what we may be dealing with is a karmic retribution," she started, “though I'm not fully sure. Permit me a question: do you know what transpired before the Crimson Killer started this crusade against us?"
Shockingly, the Chieftain closed his eyes and lowered his mask, revealing his deep brown face and his crooked antlers. His pale yellow eyes blinked open with a deep sigh. "It is my understanding that the pack, Northern Bells Ringing, was responsible for the death of both the Crimson Killers' pups. Ever since then, she has not let go of her wrath."
The mortician stared with wide, pink and purple eyes. Her suspicions were correct… Karmic retribution, indeed. While she felt a level of indignation for the theft of a pearl, she didn't think that all of this was worth one single treasure.
"You know much of karma and superstitions." the Chieftain continued, rolling one of the pearls of his mask between his claws. "Do you have a proposal for what we should do?"
Brought back to the planet, she blinked and considered her options. Considering it was death that caused this whole crusade, she wondered if perhaps a burial rite would set things straight. Give the pups the ascension they deserved--in the hopes that the Crimson killer would calm down.
But she knew that the pack would not be pleased with such an option. Most of them, if not all, would consider a thief ill-fitted for ascension. Reincarnation would have been a better option, or the denial of burial entirely. She screwed her eyes shut. Perhaps if she could convince the Chieftain, the rest of the pack would be convinced along with him.
She offered a tiny sigh, opened her eyes, and spoke, her voice trembling slightly. "This may be a difficult proposition, but this is the best I can think of," she started, shuffling anxiously on her feet. "If we give the pups a burial rite and allow them to ascend, perhaps the wrath of the Crimson Killer would be quelled, the storm would cease, and perhaps we would be freed from this never-ending cycle of death."
the Chieftain narrowed his eyes. Slowly and deliberately, he placed his mask back over his face. He started to pace around the plinth his throne sat upon, his knuckles dragging against the stone now and again. His short tail thrashed behind him, and a low rumbling emerged from his throat. Her heart sank, thinking that he was going to deny this.
But to her surprise, "Yes, I think that would be best," he replied, although he didn't look at her.
Something in her chest swelled, and she bowed her head so low her antlers were practically flat against the ground. "Thank you so much. You are ever so gracious, Stone Spear Cast Through the Heart."
He turned to her abruptly, pearls rattling against the mask's antlers. "Be quick about it. Whoever you can convince will join you for the rites, but no more than that. Make nothing new for them unless you must. Waste nothing important on this."
That formed a pit in her stomach, and she briefly stared at the Chieftain in mild disbelief, but the demand didn't surprise her. They were speaking of a thief, after all. She dipped her head. "Of course. Please, if you will excuse me."
With a wave of his hand, the Chieftain dismissed her, and she backed away before turning and leaving. The long flurry of spines along her back danced in anticipation, a seed of doubt planting itself between her antlers and making her mandibles shudder. She hoped that she could get at least one or two scavengers on her side. Perhaps, at the very least, her assistants would help.
She made her way into the morgue, the deep chambers within the farthest reach of their pack's domain. It was dark, with only dim glow weeds to illuminate the corridors with their green luminescence. She donned her robe made out of long, flowing dried grasses, woven together with pearls sewn around the collar and the hem. She lifted her veil and hooked it around her antlers.
Inside, one of her assistants was there, making a candle from the remaining wax they had. Most of the candles they still had were getting smaller and smaller. More wax burned away with each rite, and with so much ash overwhelming the wax, the quality was starting to drop. Still, this batch was looking good.
"I have gotten the Chieftain's blessing to perform a very specific burial rite."
Her assistant lifted the in-progress candle out of the wax, allowing it to drip and cool before dipping it again. She turned to face the mortician, blinking. "And what is that?" she asked.
"He says that this whole thing started when another pack killed the pups of the Crimson Killer."
Her assistant's paw stopped just as it was going to dip the candle again, halting just above the pool of wax. Her eyes were wide behind her veil, and the frills along her arms shivered. "Is that true?" she asked in a hushed tone.
"Unfortunately, one of the pups was a thief; they stole a pearl."
"And why are we doing a burial rite?" The assistant snapped. She dipped the candle rather aggressively.
The mortician sighed, making way to take stock of what supplies they already had. "Because I fear that this is karmic retribution. The other pack must have gone too far. Only one pup was guilty, after all."
"...I see your point."
A stiff silence followed. She focused instead on her supplies. There were some thin candles, a bit bent and warped from the lack of quality wax. They had two small caskets as well, and she was surprised that there were still any left, at this rate. That was good.
She wondered, however, if it would be possible to retrieve either body, or if she would have to make a close approximation out of clay. She assumed the latter, but it was going to be difficult since she had no clue what the pups looked like. She had seen slugpups before, but any finer details would be lost on her.
Then there was the matter of the personal item. That was going to be even harder. As she collected the items needed and put them aside, she pondered what could possibly be used.
She wondered, as her anxiety grew, making her stomach feel like it was inverting itself. If she could ask Northern Bells Ringing if they still had the pearl, burning that along with the bodies or the effigies, could be an apt solution. She would have to make the journey to speak with their Chieftain; hopefully that wouldn't take long, and she would be seen quickly.
She explained the situation to her assistant, got undressed, and left to prepare.
She informed the scavenger directly underneath the Chieftain about what she was going to do, and with their approval and a couple of warriors accompanying her, she started the journey for Northern Bells Ringing.
Except for some lizards and a few close calls with vultures, the route was shockingly safe. But far in the distance, she swore she could hear the telltale “pang!” of the Crimson Killer and her explosions. It sent chills down her arms and made her spines rattle. She had to hurry. If nothing else, it lit a fire under her steps.
Finally, after a few cycles, they reached their destination. To her surprise, she was almost immediately given an audience with their Chieftain, a rather bedraggled, old-looking scavenger with graying fur. She didn't wear her mask, and she looked down upon the mortician with a weary, pitying stare.
"I've heard that you want to perform a burial rite," the Chieftain spoke before the mortician could fully bow.
She stopped mid-bow, completely surprised. Still, her antlers touched the ground, and she offered a single pearl. There seemed to be hesitation on the Chieftain's part, but eventually it was removed from her paw.
"Word travels fast, even in these desperate times… That's correct," the mortician explained. "I thought perhaps it would put a stop to this endless cycle."
the Chieftain nodded slowly but didn't say anything. The mortician hesitated.
“If it would be possible, and if you would permit my boorishness, I would like to ask for the pearl that was stolen." the Chieftain didn't reply. She swallowed, and leaned forward slightly. "Was it reclaimed, or did the Crimson Killer steal it?"
"No, no," the Chieftain suddenly wheezed, lifting a paw. "We do have it. Pardon my difficulty; this has been a very trying time, as you can imagine. There's only a small clawful left of our pack. The Crimson Killer has been absolutely relentless with us in particular."
The mortician closed her eyes and bowed her head.
"You may have the pearl."
"Thank you."
the Chieftain stood and slowly walked over to a large box. She lifted the lid and produced from it a single pearl. It was very pale, pink, and clearly sun bleached, but it still had a beautiful luster.
Carrying it like a precious treasure, the Chieftain approached. She took one of the mortician's paws into her own, turned it palm up, and placed the pearl into it, curling her claws around it. the Chieftain's own claws remained rested over the mortician's, eyes closed and her head bowed.
"May I ask another question?" The mortician spoke up quietly. the Chieftain nodded solemnly, and she continued, "Do you have the bodies?" the Chieftain shook her head, a tight furrow in her brow. "Please don't worry about it; I will simply make effigies."
"Please do what you must to end all this suffering."
"I will do everything I can."
the Chieftain wordlessly returned to her throne, but she did not so much as climb into it. She dismissed the mortician and watched in deafening silence as the other scavenger left.
The journey back to her own pack felt twice as long as the previous, but as far as she could tell, it took the same amount of cycles. Not to mention, they had fewer encounters with predators, as if the Ancients were blessing them. Perhaps it was her anticipation that made it feel agonizingly long. Perhaps it was the worry that this wouldn't work that made her paws feel so heavy. Maybe it was her anxiety, feeling like a rock in her stomach, that made her feel so weighed down.
But finally she arrived home. The morgue felt so cold as she entered it, even with her cloak and her veil. She collected the fur and clay needed, and started work on making the effigies. Before she had left, she had asked around to find out if anyone had seen the pups--he had received a fairly decent description of them, and was able to make as close of an approximation as she could. They looked fairly decent, at least in her opinion, and when her male assistant looked upon them, he even complimented her handiwork.
The two were placed into their individual coffins. She had managed to convince all three of her assistants to assist in the ritual. Two of them carried the coffins, one of them carried the candles, and they followed after her as she, with a candle over her own, led them to the burial site, singing a dirge that carried into the air early into the cycle.
They reached the plinth, and the caskets were placed upon it. The other assistant got out the candles and placed them around the caskets in a loose circle. The four of them lit the candles.
"These pups," the mortician spoke in a loud voice, "One guilty, one innocent, killed mercilessly by Northern Bells Ringing, have been placed here on this cycle to finally reach Ascension." She lifted her claws into the air, bowing her head, her veil slipping slightly down her antlers. The others around her bowed their heads in turn. "May the guilty find redemption. May the innocent find peace, and may both of them find their way through the void sea, swim to its depths, and be reunited with their people."
Her three assistants started the prayer. The thieving pup was given the pearl, and taking one of the candles into her claws, the mortician lit the caskets on fire. The four of them watched the caskets burn.
It burned for quite some time, but eventually the caskets were rendered into nothing but two piles of ashes. The candles burned out, leaving behind piles of wax. The ashes were collected, the wax was scraped off the plinth, and the four of them made the journey back to their nests.
Strangely, a feeling of peace fell over their pack. Perhaps it was just her imagination. However, there had been news that the Crimson killer had started to ascend the structure leading to the deific entity at the top of the towering structure they lived beneath. Fewer and fewer explosions were being heard as a result. She figured it was simply luck that fewer deaths were happening in the immediate vicinity.
A few cycles later, as tradition dictated, the ashes of the pups were scattered. She didn't know their favorite place, so she made the journey once again to the area where Northern Bells Ringing lived. She scattered the ashes near the toll where the accused pup had allegedly stolen the pearl. She watched as the ashes swirled in the wind, carried west poetically in a quiet dance. She remained in her spot long after the ashes had vanished, and only retreated when she could hear the lumbering sound of a slithering lizard.
Not long after, there was a rumor that the Crimson Killer had moved west, and there were whispers that perhaps she had stopped killing. The mortician had her doubts, but hope swelled within her heart.
As if to answer her silent prayer that this was true, reports of Crimson Killer-based deaths simply stopped.
She accepted no praise for her efforts to ascend the pups. She acknowledged no attempt to give her credit for stopping the Crimson Killer. She simply thanked the Chieftain for allowing her this opportunity, and thanked the Ancients for allowing the two pups their voyage into the void sea.
She quietly slipped away and resumed her duties as the mortician, thankfully with fewer bodies to tend to.