From the hills she scans the valley below, peering down on a man with a predetermined fate. He sits unaware, busy, distracted, just as she remembered.
All reliable battle plans must be scrapped. How can she conquer a war that she doesn't want to win? How can she erase the very figure that resurrected her faith in a happy ending? How can she forget all the things that kept her from her demons?
She peers down at her map. Her eyes follow an invisible line that would bring them on a pilgrimage through the past 10 months. Suddenly, her eyes stop.
A map that once illustrated a pilgrimage through their story
Reliable battle plans are altered as she looks on the battle ground.
Midway through the charge, I look down at my sword and wonder why I'm even holding a sword to begin with. A voice flourishes from my chest, traveling up my throat at increased rate, before filling up my head like perfume. The scent reminds me of survival, "It's either me or him".
With no doubts to address I push my horse even harder. It charges towards the battle ground, accelerating with assurance. The wind blows away the memory, burns the images and shatters any hopes that consisted of him.
I am all that is left.
*Picture was taken by the author