The temple in the Swamp had seen better days. Barrow is the first to admit that. In his long years, such maintenance always seemed to slip him by. But no longer. The temple deserves better. And, perhaps, he deserves better than to continue living and sleeping in a building with broken windows and walls and a partially caved-in roof.

The task is more than he can do alone. But, fortunately for him, he has had more guests recently. Granted, most of them weren’t invited by him; rather, they are guests of his unexpected housemate. Regardless, he asks each visitor to help with one task. No matter how small, even just moving a piece of rubble out of the way, each job helps towards the final goal.

Brick by brick, the walls are rebuilt. Tile by tile, the roof is restored. Piece by piece, the rubble is cleared and the windows are replaced. Bit by bit, the temple in the Swamp is brought back to its former glory.

Barrow steps back, looking up at the temple. The work took a while, but now it looks just as it did all those years ago, when he first started working here as the gravedigger. A much more fitting place to spend the following years. With a satisfied smile, he steps inside and puts the kettle on.

It’s been quiet recently. Now that Donut has finally gone, it’s just been Barrow most of the time. Sure, he still has guests occasionally, but those he once became close with are gone now, and the centre of the Swamp is hardly an easy place for visitors to get to.

How long has it been now since all of that debacle with the Villain? Perhaps four or five centuries? Already in his 1200s… the time has just flown by.

The sun begins to set on yet another uneventful day, as Death’s priest sets the kettle upon the stove. He thinks to himself that he should take up a new hobby, or perhaps he should look into one of the ones he dropped a long time ago. He just needs something to keep himself engaged as he passes the time.

He hears a noise from behind the altar. His heart flutters with an excitement he hasn’t felt in a long time. He has not had a guest in so many years. Trying to calm his nerves, he approaches the top of the stairs.

At the bottom of the flight, there is a young Volgecko. Barrow wonders why they are here, but he knows it is not his place to pry; they will share that information if and when they are ready. It is his duty to be the friendly face who is there for them at this time.

“Welcome back,” he says with a smile he hopes appears comforting; he hadn’t realised how out of practice he had become. “My name is Barrow.”

He descends the stairs, offering a helping hand to the new arrival. “I’m sure there’s a lot on your mind,” he continues. “Would you like some tea? I’ve just put the kettle on.”

Even if this moment is only fleeting, the break in his solitude is welcome.