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The shovel squished, lifting from the clayish soil, a suction Nagyunn fought hard to overcome, leaning on the handle with his weight in the hope of dislodging the soil. Sweat pearled like tears watering, crying with his face rather than his eyes.Nagyunn blinked, trying to avoid the salted water from entering his eyes, as he stared at the half-dug hole, far from the ideal height. He pushed the handle again, lifting another solid goey mass, victoriously dropping it on the hole's side.Nagyunn pushed his shovel into the hole, putting his heel on the step and propelling the blade deeper into the soil. He weighed on the handle, a repeat of his earlier gesture, a reoccurrence he was sure to renew until the hole was deep and wide enough.Not far behind Nagyunn laid a tattered clothed form in the shades. Still behind laid the burned remnants of a building, dark and dusty.When that fire started, it lured the villagers near, fearful of its restless tendrils, wanting to nip the catastrophe in its bud. They arrived hastily drawn water buckets in their hands.The reclusive house licked with long flames, collapsed as the villagers drew near, tumbling, weak and solid, dark and brown, all mixed, inseparable. Satisfied when the house fell on itself, and the flames seemed contained, the villagers finally noticed the lone figure gazing at the fire from a distance."Najin," they were relieved to say, "are you hurt?"He didn't respond as if he didn't see them. One of them touched his arm, and Najin looked at them, his face glazed by the firelight."He's dead," the young man said, his voice numbed.The villagers finally noticed the form at his feet, covered with tattered clothes."But you're not hurt?" a villager asked Najin, stepping closer."Let me look at your face and arms," another insisted, grabbing Najin's arms to examine them.A group of villagers went to expect and help extinguish the fire; two looked after Najin.The person examining Najin said, "You're lucky it's not worse. Your skin should be tender for a few days; there'll be no scarring if you're careful. Let me look for some ointment.""Here, drink a bit of water," the other said as she patted his back reassuringly, offering him her gourd, "you poor boy, you must be dehydrated. Come and sleep at my place tonight. I think my son's clothes could fit you.""It won't," the guy interfered, "Your son is chunky, nothing like this fine man.""My son's less fat than yours," the lady responded, looking at his hand, her gourd still in hand. "Are you thinking of using that ointment? It doesn't even help for sunburns.""Yeah? Then why did Hanna ask for it after she burned herself when she burned herself while baking the bread?"Another group of villagers arrived with water and shovels and helped contain the fire in the house, preventing it from escaping."It seems under control," the guy commented, blankly staring at the other villagers and the fire."Thankfully, the wind isn't picking up." The woman mentioned, also gaping, mesmerized by the scene.The guy winced. "Yeah, especially with the dry season we've had..."The woman pointed at the forest. "With the trees that close, a strong wind would carry it to the village."They looked at the blaze, chatting until reinforcement arrived with water buckets.By the middle of the night, puffs of smoke and dust rose from the burned home, smouldering and harmless.The villagers took their shovels and water buckets, drifting toward the village while commenting on the weather, the avoided fire, sleep, the neighbour's crazy dog and tomorrow's work. The woman and the man beside Najin joined the procession, still arguing about their kids' prospects; the woman paused and turned to Najin."Why don't you come with us?"Najin's face, covered in darkness, twisted away from the home for the first time since their arrival. "I... Where's the gravedigger?"Both of his interlocutors froze at the underlying request. And the man shook his head in disbelief.The woman said with a glance at the unmoving form, "It wouldn't be proper." Gesturing vaguely as if she hoped he could read between the lines, the woman implored with her eyes for her neighbour to chin in.Clearing his throat, the man said, "Tin lost his home in the fire."No objection came from the boy, nor did he move.The villagers exchanged glances, shifting their weight."You can sleep at my house tonight," the woman gently offered."Or at my place," the man hastily proposed, "we've got a room since Lynty married little Tristan."Other villagers, stopping on their way, chipped in offers. "You can live with us too.""Or with us."Najin stood as if made of stone, emotionless until he said something.The villagers leaned forward. "What?""A shovel," the boy said, "Can anyone lend me a shovel?"Everyone heard the words."We need to dig up the well," one muttered."We're building a barn," another said.Others wafted away, feet guiding them away from the uncomfortable situation. Ultimately, all but Najin fled the scene.Nagyunn leaned his back on a nearby tree, hands on his knees, until the sun rose.Only then did he notice the shovel discreetly partly angled on the other side of a tree.Without a cart or help carrying, Nagyunn couldn't afford to choose a far-away location.Ambling around his previous home, Nagyunn found a spot hidden from the road by bushes.Planting the shovel head into the spot, Nagyunn dug until the sun waned on the horizon.Nagyunn, for the first time since the fire, left the burnt remnant out of sight, carrying an empty bucket to the near water source, filling it, stopping on his way back, gasping, hands trembling, face tilted to the ground.Hands wrestled with hair, and a sound mid-way between an injured beast's and a child's sob came from his chest.Bending forward, hands fell to his face, sliding to his side. Face blank, Nagyunn took the bucket, slushing it as he brought it to his former home.Nagyunn stared at the tattered clothes, knowing what lay behind them and his decision to take a torch to part of the face and hair. Nobody should notice the mole or the shorter hair, or they'd uncover his lie.Yet, nobody asked a question about Nagyunn, least of all, checked on him.Briefly closing his eyes, Nagyunn removed the tattered clothes and, soaking them in water, cleaned up his brother's face and hands, rubbing all stains away, blood, soil and cinder. No rubbing could remove the burned skin marks that stunk more than even the smoke-filled clothes of both boys.Nagyunn caressed the face, his hands tracing the ugly marks as carefully as the smooth skin. He leaned his forehead to Najin's, clutching him in his arms, creases forming between his eyes before releasing the lifeless body. Carding the hair from the face, Nagyunn insulated his brother's body with the tattered clothes, shielding him from the outside world and its woes.Hands pulled the tattered clothes-covered body with several breaks. Finally, the cocooned body fell into the hole, almost pulling the living boy along.After a short break, in the dark, a shovel threw ground over the meagre form, slowly filling the hole until it overfilled.The hands lowered the shovel on a tree, and the body whirled in the buried body's direction.The body faced the grave for a long time, barely a hint of the moonlight illuminating the scene. And the boy left.Sometime after his departure, another figure stopped before the grave, bending to drop a sole and undistinguishable flower.The lowered figure gazed at the ground, face hidden in shadows. "You've worked hard."The figure rose to its feet, glancing one last time at the grave with a faint smile. "Sleep well."The figure left.Those words were the only eulogy the boy buried in the grave received.