There was no snow in the North on the day he died. When she arrived, his hands were already cold and the knuckles were still bent - after holding the knife for ten years, he could no longer straighten it. She brought his armor back to the capital and buried it outside the city. There was no name on the monument, only the date. Spring equinox. He left on the vernal equinox and she was buried on the vernal equinox. After that, every spring equinox, she would bring a bowl of hot porridge to visit the grave, saying "the porridge is still hot." No one answered her, but she said it every year. Here (note: there is no protagonist, only a group of people who can't wait for their return, and a city that is always waiting.)
