From the Short Story - The Ghost

The early darkness of December and the thickness of the forest had nearly consumed any light when the Widow approached the group of women. She walked slowly and stopped before reaching them, a small bundle in her hands, her eyes distant, her silence disconcerting.

The stout lady spoke, a slight irritation in her voice. “Well, did you find her?”
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I watched as the Widow gathered herself and seemed to look beyond the women into the darkness. She nodded. “She’s dead.”

There was no gasp, no hands to the mouth, no tears. The women’s expressions were masked by the darkness, but most turned their heads to the ground as they stood in silence.
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The Widow walked forward and unwrapped the bundle in her arms. The baby was silent and still.