They never found her.
There should have been a corpse, a sign, some slivered remains of something left behind.
They found nothing, save Bylah.
Bylah, settled in like roots next to trees dying, despite the vivid of spring.
Bylah, who’s features are not made for smiling and yet do anyway. The way his eyes tighten at the corners, like a feline that has found a patch of sunlight to nap in..and by the time the smile reached his eyes, it was as twisted and cruel as a tapeworm in warm bowels.
They found him, looking well fed.