Trail of Lightning by Rebecca Roanhorse
The monster has been here. I can smell him.
She stops. Keeps her eyes on the horizon. “Everyone mourns different,” she says quietly, her voice thick with compassion. “When I lost my Rick, people thought I should wail and tear my hair out. But I didn’t even cry, not once. I poured myself into my work, my kids. I let purpose eat up all those tears instead.” She sighs, heavy with memory. “But when I lost my baby, my firstborn, Cletus, Id like to cry enough to flood the whole of Dinetah, I was wrung out so bad.” She wipes at her brow with her rag. “Don’t think I’ll ever stop crying for that child.”