13: At her grave

*Ben*

I don’t know why I bother to run. I know exactly where I will find my father, where I always find him eventually. At my mother’s grave.

Until tonight, I had never understood why my father had insisted on burying my mother near a tree on our property instead of in the graveyard beside the church in the village where all our previous ancestors are resting. But after hearing the tale at supper, I am left to wonder if it is that tree in which my father had first met the girl who would eventually become the love of his life.

When I see my father nearing the grave, knowing he is going straight there and isn’t planning to wander about the moors, I slow to a walk. The moon is bright enough that I haven’t bothered with a lantern. I fight not to be irritated with the interruption. I had certainly not wanted to abandon my bride, although I suspect curiosity has gotten the better of her and she has glanced out the window to see father and son darting across the moors as though the hounds o