Aaron sang his dying songs.
Hymns echoed up and down the stone chamber. Music held the hope of a place without snow, a place without smoke, a place where he could breathe without coughing and never again be alone. A place where his tears would never freeze on his cheeks.
He drank in the music. The sound soaked into his soul, into his mind, caressing it with hopeful tones. They let him tell the story that Sareh told him.
The one who told him what all the words in the songs meant. “I know. It’s hard to breathe. It was even harder for him,” she said. “There’s a very old song, from before, that talked about it being like buried in mud. did you ever wallow in the mud when they first find the heat springs? Like that, but cold. All put on top of your chest, that great weight, pressing down. Can you imagine? But he didn’t have to do that. He decided to do that for you, so you wouldn’t have to feel the weight on your chest forever. He has a place waiting for you where you can breathe and walk again.”
He grabbed that memory. Sareh called it a place of adventure, where he could run and never grow tired.
Without the songs, he would have only darkness and cold.
But with the songs, he had hope.
He let the music shake his bones and lift his soul.
The music that bore the story of his hope was all he had anymore.
Read more of the world of Snow and Smoke here.
Read the previous story, Late Night Meetings, here.
Read the next story, Like Mouths that Devour the Sky, here.