They said nothing, but the black Longneck could see their eyes dim.
"A thousand apologies..." He murmured as he rose to his feet.
Come dawn, they too were dead and the stranger was gone. There where he had rested beside their bodies, the grass had died. The bodies of the children had disappeared. Sprouting where they had fallen were three flowers.
A Thistle for Zimba. A frail Orchid for Nahla. And a Dandelion for Littlefoot. The Dandelion grew big, sheltering amongst its' stems the small orchid as the Thistle grew equally big.
But where the bodies of his grandparents had decayed two trees sprouted up, growing higher than any in the Valley ever had. And beside those remained a patch of dead grass, never to be green again.