"Corpses" that was the only word Maxwell could think of at the moment. Maxwell trembled all over, his legs wobbled as his knees kissed the cold soft snow-covered ground.
"What, what is all this?" he murmured, as his eyes dilated as he observed all the corpses, human and beast, all kneeling with a pious expression on their faces.
"A death where there is no pure distinction between human and beast, all kneeling in a beautiful symphony of horror," he muttered, cold sweat rolling down his back.
"What sort of abomination could create this? Was it a mistake to come here? Have I doomed us all to our death by bringing us here?"
Maxwell turned to his side to see the one who had spoken: Nova. She stood there silently trembling, but unlike Maxwell, she still remained standing.
"Th-these people, I know them," she muttered so softly that it almost couldn't be heard over the howling wind. "The researcher who always liked to read in the night, the hunter who thought life was a hunting sport, Lady Naga the seamstress who could sew anything from monster hide, and Master White the farmer who was always kind to everyone. Why did they all die? What caused their death? Did they do anything to deserve all this?"
She cried in her head, shedding silent tears for the ones who made her life in this place not seem like a living hell, but actually something that she could look upon and accept, making peace with the past and things that happened in this frozen hell of a wasteland.
She staggered slightly, walking slowly to their side, shedding tears that were quickly frozen by the cold before they could be witnessed by anyone.
Maxwell watched from the sidelines, watching as Nova staggered toward the corpses. He didn't think of her as weak or pitiful because she struggled to walk straight, but in fact admired her for her courage, for being able to witness such an abominable act without breaking down. Heaven knows he had already lost the strength in his legs without even having a direct connection to the dead.
"We need to bury them. I don't know what happened that made them die like this or what is still keeping their corpses fresh, but I can't leave them like this," Nova said, turning to Maxwell, her eyes slightly red but no sign of tears could be seen.
"But what if it's dangerous? You will be putting yourself at risk," Maxwell argued, it was outrageous to try that, "We—"
Nova interjected, "Like I said, I am not forcing you. It's entirely your choice. Just know that if such a thing happens to you, I will not hesitate in leaving your corpse behind." With those words, she turned around and entered a small hut to get tools.
Maxwell thought for a moment, looked up at the sky then at the ground. He pumped his fist, giving himself some positive words of encouragement. "What if they all died in a strange way? It's been who knows how long, there is no shot that whatever caused this is still around. Yeah, yeah, definitely."
But if I'm being honest, who knows how long these people have been dead for? How are their corpses still fresh?
Maxwell shivered, deciding not to think about the anomaly. His new motto from now on: anything that was beyond him is better left unknown!
With that, he hurried after Nova, Snowy following behind.
Maxwell looked around the small dark hut, his eyes falling on several tools, including a shovel, garden fork, hoe, and a squeegee. What the hell? How did these tools find themselves here?
He thought with wonder, certainly they were not brought here like his phone was, were they? He thought about asking Nova, but gave up the idea immediately; he did not want his question to bring back painful memories.
"Grab one. We don't have much time before the sun sets, so let's hurry," Nova said without an expression as she grabbed a shovel and left the hut.
"Sure."
Ta, ta, ta.
The sound of shovels could be heard hitting the ground as moist snow and sand flew into a pile, telling tales of the work done under the setting sun, that had painted the world orange and created long and twisting shadows.
"Damn, we've been digging for hours and only managed to dig three holes, and there are 15 dead people. This sucks," Maxwell cursed, dragging a pile of snow on a rugged, tired wheelbarrow—only God knew where it came from. Of course he made sure Nova did not hear him, but the same couldn't be said about Snowy, though, as he stood on top of a hut calmly shaking his head at Maxwell.
Smug bird, are mimic souls supposed to have that much will of their own? Maxwell thought. Now that he finally thought about it, he realized that mimic souls were not supposed to have much of a personality like Snowy.
"What a weird bird," he muttered, not thinking too much about it. Whatever the case may be, as far as it was advantageous, he was willing to accept it!
"Let's stop here for now," Nova said, turning to Maxwell as she saw him muttering to himself.
She paid him no attention as she continued.
"Once you are done, let's go in together. That was the main reason we came here."
"Alright," Maxwell nodded as he quickly finished up, returning the tools back to their shed. Why did I return the tools? He questioned. They were alone; there was no need for him to return the tools!
Now that they were done, Maxwell finally took a good look around the settlement and finally noticed something.