Telebri thought the old battlefield was probably the saddest thing in the whole world. She used to scurry past it every day. She couldn’t bear to look at those empty hulks.
It was her father who put it in perspective. “Look, flowers and vines are growing around him,” he’d said, running a hand over the spiked shoulder-plate. “A bird is nesting in his mouth. Don’t you think, if he’d had a choice, he’d rather be a home than break down walls?”
Telebri stared at the massive fist. “But he’ll never move again.”
“Because he doesn’t need to anymore,” Dad smiled.