To the Happy Hunting Grounds

They say it is cold. They say one slowly loses all feelings, sometimes without even noticing it, until all that remains is a shallow and cold shell. Numbness - that is it. It is a cold morning today, a feeble drizzle covers our village as a water blanket, there is no wind, just a static quietness. our ruler is dead.\nA funeral must be prepared, a platform made of long tree trunks is erected in the middle of our community, men and women, young and old, all hastily helping to make sure that the ceremony is held as soon as possible. They wrap our ruler's body in clothes, as they was still alive, and place their on the platform, along with many of the personal belongings they had treasured in life.\nThe funeral is held, everything is cold, our ruler's rule is over, rain falls.