I am no one, I'm nothing

Epilogue

Don Quixote patted the dirt around the newly-dug grave and set the shovel down, placing a supportive hand on Pedro's shoulder. The younger man knelt on the ground, forehead pressed against the crude cross made out of the branches from nearby cinnamon trees. A few tears leaked from his eyes as he said goodbye to the love of his life, the strongest person he knew, his lover, best friend, Aldonza.

"Even the greatest men make mistakes." Don Quixote murmured from above Pedro's shadowed form.

"I do not wish to be consoled right now." He huffed through an approaching wave of emotion.

"Neither do I. But she wasn't the Lady I thought her to be." Don Quixote mumbled sadly, turning to secure the saddle bags on the fair Pimento.

"What do you mean?" Pedro questioned roughly.

"Well, the Lady Dulcinea would never die, for she is my immortal supplier of happiness, motivation and courage. If she were the Lady Dulcinea, she would still be here."

"Don't you get it?" Pedro questioned the loony knight-errant. "She always was."

"Was always what?" Don Quixote questioned with confusion.

Pedro mulled this over as he dug the blade into the piece of wood, anchoring it in the ground near where her body had been laid to rest. "Aldonza del Tobozo," It read in careful, concise script. "Rest in Peace, Mi Amor." He hesitated before carving on a third line and reading it aloud, "Dulcinea."

He placed a final flourish on the name and arranged a few wildflowers around it, mumbling words of love, sorrow and pleas of forgiveness. "Shall we go, old friend?" Don Quixote questioned, nodding with sorrowful respect at the young man.

Pedro looked around him, at the grave and up the hill towards the Inn, where their story had begun and so shortly ended. "It is time for a new life." He stated decisively. "I can no longer be Pedro Antonin, for he is to remain here, forever and always, with his lover Aldonza, the Lady who is truly Dulcinea."

Don Quixote raised his eyes with surprise, though nodded with understanding. "You shall be my squire." He exclaimed, clapping him on the shoulder before mounting his trusty steed. "And you shall be known now, and forever more, as Sancho."

Sancho nodded, repeating his name and grinning at the sound of it. "Now let us go, most faithful of squires-for we have lots of adventures to go on and rights to wrong." Sancho mounted the horse and held on tightly to Don Quixote's bouncing form as the horse galloped away from the Inn, onto the road of fate to forever reach for the unreachable star.