Standing atop the grassy, tree barren hill, Salish said the Words and the smoke appeared. A light rain began to fall as the dark violet plumes billowed before her. It was time. She fell to her knees before the rising haze, uttering the Words twice more. As soon as her knees hit the ground the swirling mists violently receded, as if being sucked into an invisible, vortex before her. The silence was palpable as she waited, unmoving, now silently mouthing the Words over and over, careful to not let a breath escape her.

Three days before:

"Saylish?”, “Saaaaylish?”… “SAYLISH!”, the old woman called. Salish groaned, trying but failing to block out the late morning light with her pillow. She just wanted to keep sleeping. In fact she wanted to never wake again.

“SAYLISH, get up ye lazy eejit!” Salish groaned, the pillow over her head not nearly enough to drown out old Lora’s incessant yelling. Salish threw the pillow across the room, sighing with defeat as she climbed out of bed and made to her small armoir in the corner of the room.