Rest, poor girl (not pictured) by marker 389 / 300 along Scenic Route 4004 in Chumphon. You couldn’t have been there long, still, by the side of the road. Your pack howled and I kneeled. I tried to flag someone for help but I speak even less of their language than I do yours. When I knew we’d have to do this alone I howled with your pack. I prayed at the Spirit House near the shuttered Palm farm where you lay. I’m not even sure that this is proper way to use a Spirit House. I don’t know what I’m doing other than my best. Tell me what the rain felt like this morning, tell me what morsels you had for breakfast. And maybe I can tell you that I haven’t seen so beautiful a sky tonight in a very long time, and the crickets are playing for you now. You are loved, you are loved, you are loved, even if you never had a name, you are loved. May your pack make you feel not alone tonight, may my prayers reach to rub the soft of your belly, and the wind, may it tickle the hairs on your feet, wherever they have traveled.