A rarity

Alistair had afforded himself that rarest of treats, especially for him. A day off.

He was not generally in the practice of taking a day away from work, even if it wasn't a day of digging; scouting for custom or studying new den-dogging techniques were still important activities for his craft.
But today, today was different. It would have been his mother's birthday today. She and Alistair's father had died a good few seasons ago, succumbing to a shared illness. Alistair had grieved a short while, but they had lived good lives, and Alistair was already independent of them in work and in life.

But he'd loved his parents, dearly. The Glass Beach had been a favourite place of his mother's, and so on her birthday he made a point to visit the location, fabled to be able to connect you with your ancestors and other deceased loved ones, if only in spirit, and enjoy the pools.

Alistair lay, feet crossed before him, head up and alert, staring into the surface of a particular pool. Seeing his mother and father in his visage reflected back at him.