Darkness envelopes Morwen as she walks over the bodies. She knew he was one of them, but there was no way to tell until she found him. A mop of brown hair was spotted, lifted, and returned as she moved through the carnage. Her dress dragged over the bodies, getting soaked in mud and blood from the battlefield. Her pitiful candle wavered in the gloom and threatened to extinguish itself in many occasions, but she held it aloft to light the ground in front of her.

She reached down and rolled a corpse over. Not him.

‘He’s here,’ Morwen thought, steeling herself to slowly pick her way across the field of death. She stood tall and looked out at the specks of light which indicated other women: mothers or wives who came to search for their loved ones among the dead. There was no sound as they searched, only the rustling of the folds of their own dresses as they worked at their long and arduous task.

Every one carried out their duties in much the same way. Walk to one, turn him over. Periodically, she heard one of her friends cry out as they found their loved one among the dead. She approached a group of dead dressed at Pitt soldiers who were surrounded by Baaman troops.

Imagining the events of the battle, these fifteen brave men held their position against close to one hundred Baaman. Her heart swelled in her chest and pounded in her ears as she started turning over the Pitt corpses one by one. A mop of brown hair lay in the mud with its long locks laying out around the man’s head, face down. She turned him over gently and cried out as she was confronted by Jacob’s visage. Through her tears, she looked about him at the multitudes of fallen Baaman who had stood against him in his proverbial den of lions. Jacob was not saved by the Lord this time.

Morwen cradled his damaged body and wept silently, curling up next to him and crying until she fell asleep.

The morning light illuminated the sky and gradually woke her from her slumber. The last remaining women combed the field, still searching for their men as Morwen sat up and began to fashion a litter to carry Jacob’s body. Now numb to her emotional distress, she began to drag the body of her husband toward home. All through the streets, she left a trail from the branches of the litter in the dirt as she walked slowly toward the hall of dead. Levi met her, the man who kept the hall in order, and welcomed her with sincere reverence to inter her husband in the mausoleum.

Jacob’s body was securely installed in the tomb and Morwen lay on the stone floor, her knees hugged to her chest. The cold floor gave her no solace and she resolved to live a celibate life until she could join Jacob in death.

As the men once again journeyed forth to battle, Morwen was among them. She carried a spear and a shield and wore Jacob’s sword at her waist. Her thoughts were upon her path forward and she did not dwell upon her grief, but on bringing destruction to Pitt’s enemies.