The wind, like a haunting whisper, trembled her swinging legs, pulling them to and throw like an after thought of life. Did something above want her sinews to tie back together, clear the deathly fog from her eyes? Did it regret ripping the soul from her frail, rattling chest- did it have the capacity to regret at all?

It was clear she was gone even if nature goaded her to wake. He could tell well enough when her pulse escaped his denial soaked hands, they reeked of desperation, like a child grasping and cooing in a plead for warmth.

Beat.

The phantom breath of her heart drummed against his ears. He heard it even then as he scooped the crawling blood back into her wound. It was still hot from the gunpowder, almost mimicking human temperature, it fuelled his hope so pitifully he had to cry. A rule he vowed never to break.

But it was her, so entirely her that his chest cracked and mind numbed. Was it his rib? He thought so as the vivid pain creeped back in.

How was she so strong yet so frail?

Beat.

What else was he meant to do? He could still hear it, there was no reason to call for help. he could handle it, he could bring her back exactly like before- with the wrinkles curling at her eyes when she smiled, the flutter of her eyelashes upon her cheeks and the deep dips in her dimples. He would be the Doctor Frankenstein but she wouldn’t be the monster, she would be more.

He reached the pier with an exhausted smile and his legs numb to the ache. The moon was just peeking over the soaked wood and stars hardly there with the light pollution but, it was still the most beautiful scene as this would be the night she would return.

Beat.

Her skin was now a greenish-grey and her body bloated so much it could float upon the clouds. Her eyes were closed for if he opened them nothing would shine through, he even now smelt a subtle hint of death that was seeped into the marrow of her bones.

Was she ever more beautiful?

Beat.

The moon glimmered through the air, still pregnant with grief and but mostly hope as he continued onward across the sand. It pierced his sensitive feet, leaving a ghost’s touch of warmth from the daytime sun but there was nothing more comforting than that natural sensation.

She was all for nature- the wisps of autumn wind, the rustle of lively trees, the touch of wet, supple grass beneath her feet. He was so much closer to his love now as he carried her to her grave. It would be beautiful under the bed of golden sand and waves of sparkling salt water; he had picked the perfect place.

Beat.

She would even meet his family. And soon enough together they would be: there and gone like footsteps beside the sea.