Moonlight gathered cobweb-fine beneath the shadows of the canopy, its weak beams lending an opalescent texture to the bones the mare had spent so many hours piecing together. The skeleton itself presented a stark contrast to its surroundings, every vertebrae and joint patiently aligned upon a carpet of cleared earth. Droplets of water still stood out here and there on the surface where she'd rinsed the dirt away, the white of them fairly gleaming even in the dark. A breeze stirring the branches overhead seemed to set the reassembled skeleton briefly in motion, a flickering suggestion hidden in its contours. Spread out across the dark soil, fleshless legs twitched, and ribs shuddered in some mimicry of breath. Another moment, and the skittish might expect it to arch its neck, stagger upright and canter away, clacking like a wind chime as it went.Tired eyes observed the trick of light with an ease borne of practice, familiar enough with the dead to know that they rarely got back up. Instead, Nephthys took note of the imperfections in her work without expression: a jagged edge where one of the ribs had broken off, a telling crack like latticework along the jawbone, the excess padding on its forehead where a spiraling horn once resided. Any identifying features it may have boasted beyond that were gone now, picked clean by time. This was not ideal, but Nephthys had long ago come to terms with the fact that it wasn't always possible to unearth corpses such as this one in their entirety. There were too many factors, not the least of which were the more frangible pieces, bits that fell away once sinew and cartilage ceased to ensconce them. And there were scavengers, of course, creatures that felt no kinship to the deceased, or else cannibals who cared little for ceremony. Moreover, she understood that unicorns horns were not without value, ripped from a dead brow or otherwise. It may have even answered why the stallion had been cut down in his prime with none to mourn him. But she was not one to entertain theories, nor was it her responsibility to wonder what befell those she put to rest. Her work picked up where life left off; anything that preceded that was the living's business.
Nephthys sank one hoof into the ground to test the hardness of the soil, weighing her options with a thoughtful air. Without any apparent next of kin, she was left to decide the best way to tend to the body. Sometimes it was better that way, devoid of the bickering and arguments that so often rushed to fill the void. Those who thought they knew the deceased best often butted heads when it came to last wishes, wanting their voice to be heard above all others. She did not treasure the handful of times she'd been forced to intervene in a familial dispute, to make the decision on behalf of her charge. If the survivors did not appreciate her efforts, it mattered little. Her first obligation was to the dead.
The mare dipped her head toward the skeleton in question, ears cocked and stare strangely intent on empty eye sockets. He had been dead for some time, this nameless, hornless unicorn, and that sometimes made it more difficult to lay them to rest properly. But years spent stumbling over abandoned bodies in forests and wastes had allowed her to cultivate certain protocols, and she intended to do right by what she'd managed to find of this stallion. He'd been young, perhaps no more than three summers to his name. She could tell from his knees that he'd only recently come into his growth spurt, an impression heightened by the lack of arch near the base of his neck. It would have made him gawky, his body cumbersome as it struggled away from adolescence.
Nephthys opened her mouth and allowed the ceremonial words to rasp from her throat. "You who are without kin, lost to your own wholeness, beyond peace. I see you. I greet you. Hear my voice and know that you have been found." Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips, and she spoke again in a less weighty tone, one held in reserve for the younger corpses. "You must be very tired. Let's find a place for you to sleep. When you wake up again, it will be in a world that is better than this one. I promise."