Ring

Magan looked down at his own hand, his bony fingers pressed tight against his palm. Each finger had been marked. Triangle, circles, dotted lines, occupying every space. He remembered receiving every one. Where he was, how he was feeling. This was for sorrow. That was for happiness. An entire life upon his skin, superficial to the eye, but bonded to his core.

Between his fingers, coils of leather cord crept out, like brambles beneath the roots, twisting as they tried to curl their way free. Slowly, he opened his hand. The cord jumped with excitement for its release, immediately unravelling, so eager to be free that when he finally opened his palm wide, all that was left of the cord was a single knot securing it. The rest had slipped free, swinging in the air below.

In the expanse of his palm, as white as snow in comparison to the back of his hand, there remained his ring. A piece of seaglass shaped into a ring. He remembered it all. Everything. Finding it, carving it, sizing it to fit Nina's finger, and when she tied it around his neck, 'All we have is each other,' she had whispered, pressing the ring against his heart.

A whole life in his hands. He closed his fist again and held it out towards his master. It was time to let it go. To turn his hand and let it fall.

The cold surface burnt his skin, searing into him. His hand shook, trembling. There was so much he needed to say. So much he had to tell her. He wanted to beg, to plead, to fall to his knees and weep.

'I'll keep her safe for you,' Stobal said.

Magan released his hand. The ring tumbled down, straight into Stobal's paws. His meaty fingers encircled the dainty ring, placing it straight in his pocket where a little cord hung out, loose.