Hohnair Mand?” Chief calls.

Another dip of paint. Just one more strand of hair to place –

“HOHNAIR MAND!” Chief’s voice echoes into the Grief Room.

My brush flickers at his voice. “Damnit.” Odon’s portrait is almost finished. It’s the least I can do for her, paint her perfect just as she was but damn Chief. The final whisps of hair smudged and now, she’ll stay like this, immortalized on this stupid wall with her hair looking like a black slug swiped on her head.

The wall under my fingers is coarse. Odon, my grandma, mom and dad, my brother – all rough under my fingertips. All painted by me.

You know, the Chief, he takes out each family, one at a time. My brother was first, then dad. Then mom struck a deal. Her and I would paint all the sacrificed villagers in the Grief Room. So Sac Day for us, it ended. For awhile at least. My mom was Sac’d a year ago – without warning too.

Odon’s Sac Day was three days ago.

“Chief,” I say, bowing my head.

He sits in the Grand Hall, a room reserved for him, me – when he calls for me, and Sac Days. He raps his fingers on his arm chair built to resemble an elephant. I mean, I’m assuming an elephant but I’ve only read about them in books.

“Hohnair Mand,” Chief says, “did you finish the last portrait yet?”

“Well,” I spin my paintbrush between my fingers, “I need to finish a few details.”

His fingers tap faster. He nods his head and blinks a few times. “I need it done now,” he says. “Today.” He stands and leaves through the door behind him.

The grand, high ceilings engulf me. Maybe it’s grief engulfing me but right now, it feels more like this room. Let’s go to our spot, Odon.

I don’t feel her around me at all. Not at the edge of our little world. The brisk air, lilacs, sun warming my skin. It’s missing Odon. I always thought maybe, just maybe, she’d hang back for me like a ghost or something if Sac Day took her name and put her face on the wall and –

Bleeeeeeeh

“Gods.” I scramble back from the edge of the mountain. “The hell?”

The green-eyed goat stares at me and lets out another horrendous bleat. I get to my feet and –

Bleeeeeeeh

Have you heard a goat bleat? It’s a nightmare kind of noise. I adjust my shirt and take a deep breath in.

“Hey, goat.”

She comes close to me, the charm I tied around her collar glints with the sun shining off it. She takes a step further. “Hey, I’m not your herdsman goat.” She bleats another round and I wince. “Yep, Odon’s gone old goat.” She lets me pet her head and scratch behind her ear. “Can I tell you something?”

She stomps her foot and I know, I know it’s crazy, but I swear it. My grandma is somewhere inside this damn goat. “Gran, I found something. You know how you told me about the charm and the paintings?” I glance around, making sure no one can see me talking to a goat. “I finally found the book you hid. I’ve been reading it and I started carving something for Odon.” I start back for the village, talking quieter and trying to hide my lips moving. Green-eyed goat comes along with me. Maybe she really has my grandma’s soul inside or maybe, she just likes scratches on the back of her ears. Either way, she’s the best to talk to. “I read your notes in the margins. I think, well,” I say, “I’m going to scrape her off the wall soon and see if I feel her near me and if I do, I’m going to get off this damn mountain or at least far enough down to get to a dragon and tie it around their neck.” The village comes into sight and I kneel in front of the goat, which by the way, don’t do that since they like to head butt though since this is possibly my grandma, I take my chances. “And,” I say low, “I found the rule book you made. I’ll be following it.” I pat her head and say, “Rule number one – don’t let people know you’re crazy.”

I push her towards her herd and finish my walk back to the Mainstay. That isn’t actually rule number one. Want to know what it is?

Souls that come down, must go up

But the problem with rule number one that my grandma scribbled next to it is – the souls don’t go up from this mountain top.

She wrote, if you close your eyes and listen. Just listen. You can hear souls going back to the Old World for another lifetime but only if you stand on the edge of our little world. I’ve tried it. I haven’t heard shit. Just the occasional wind burst from below or the bellow of a dragon or some other beast.

In the Mainstay, I go back to the Grief Room with my palette and paints. The door is shut and instead of fixing Odon’s hair. I lean against the wall and work on carving my dragon from ivory I stole from the storage room. The storage room is big, near labyrinth size really. We are allowed in to drop off the treasures we find but never allowed back to see them again. Except me. I’m allowed in to grab my paints and brushes and whatever I need for the Grief Room.

I’ve never seen a dragon though. It’s in some books I’ve read and my grandma said she’s seen one once. She named a few other beasts. Some that look like gigantic worms with hacksaws for teeth and others that are winged, beautiful things that sing and hum. That’s what grandma said. And that’s what I used to tell Odon when she told me I’m just talking and going on about superstitions. Well, that’s what grandma said, is what I told her every time.

I like the ring to it.

That’s what grandma said.

A firm knock on the door and I startle, cutting my finger with my knife. It’s not too bad. I tuck the charm and the knife in my pocket and grab my palette and brush.

“Hohnair Mand?” Chief says.

I open the door and bow my head. “Chief,” I say, “I’ve just finished. Been waiting for the paint to dry.”

He peers over my shoulder and says, “That is not what Pteranodon’s hair looked like.” He taps his finger on the doorway. “I need you to finish her hair.” He backs away, eyes fixated on Odon’s portrait. “I need it done now.”

If Odon was here, I’d tell her –

I’m going to release your soul from the wall.

She’d say –

It’s just a superstition, you know.

And I’d say –

That’s not what Grandma said.