Celese lead Jette into the forest,
Without a word, without a sound,
Towards that spot se'd adored so much,
Where the river gently pushed by
The snapberrie bushes around the grand old stump,
Where the trees masked the sky and
Allowed only little winks of light through, so
They could dance on the forest floor.
Jette had speant many hours
Watching the minnows in the stream
Picking the snapberries for ink
Watching from the large grey boulder.
Today, she does not of these.
She does not watch the minnows
She does not pick the berries
She does not watch from the rock.
The trees are not a mask today,
They are witnesses as Jette drops
To her knees by silent force.
Her head lowers and Celeste's sword raises,
Without a word, without a sound.
The head remains hung, hands fall into
Jette's pale yellow skirt...
After all the crying and all the begging...
Celest hadn't heard a word, hasn't heard a sound...
All she could do was hope
The fallen friends are not merciless.