It would soon be light.
Mor's memory was fading, his mind a disturbing mess of thoughts. He vaguely remembered the day he couldn't council any longer and how cold he was when saying the words. The clan accepted in silence, and it had frightened him. That was before the winter. Early spring, when he couldn't chew his food anymore, he knew it was time. He chose his youngest son for the last rites and they went.
His fear was over now; it would soon be light.
Burial hut made from vdisp TIF (pulled in mudbox) on a small plane, sunk in the ground a tiny bit. Added some fake stones and grasses.