To Walk

The Journey Continues

Damon Rivers' POV

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          The cold of the night swallowed me, and I halted within about twenty blocks from the firelight, allowing my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I hefted my ax in my right hand, crouching behind a tree. My eyes adapted to the blackness rather quickly, after years of practice of course. I sensed rather than saw Mason come up beside me.

          Mason spoke softly, "Sir...?"

          "What is it, Mason?"

          He flinched slightly at my voice. I hadn't spoken roughly, but my tone was harsh, nonetheless, "Sir, I...I wonder sometimes."

          I drew my second ax, my eyes still focused on the forest, bathed softly in moonlight, before me. I could make out several undead, accompanied by a few infected and a creeper or so, dragging their pitiful forms mindlessly through the trees. When I had picked our camp, I made sure we would be downwind from them. Hopefully we would not be bothered that night. I grunted in response to Mason's comment, still scouting out favorable places to crouch for the night watch, "And-?"

          Mason sighed, "Some days, I feel as if we'll never reach our goal. I want so, so badly to make HIM suffer for what he has done to me, to all of us." He paused, visibly stressed. I glanced at him, seeing him take a firmer grip on his sword at the sound of the far-off undead's moaning. He bit his lip and looked me in the eye, "Do you ever feel that way, sir? Some days, fire fills my veins, and I feel so close to our goal, and other days... Our task sometimes feels impossible." He finally blurted out.

          I smiled grimly, "Ah, Mason, you are not the first. Ever since I began my path to vengeance, I have encountered many who tell me constantly to stop my mad push for revenge and to seek happiness elsewhere. I had but one answer for them." I turned back to the woods and saw a good bush to crouch behind, "I told them that without the burning desire for revenge, I would not be able to move, even breathe. I would be a hollow shell without a reason to live. However, with this objective in mind, even on the days all seems hopeless, the slight spark in the dying ashes of my fire still pushes me to rise each day, to train, and to seek out HIM. Without this spark, I would never have recovered. I would have died, buried in the ruins of a house fire seven years ago. You, Mason, have this spark within you. I have seen it, and I can sense the days you feel down. But know this." I faced him and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, still gripping my ax, my good eye bright with passion

          Pride and awe shone from Mason's eyes, "Really?"

          I nodded, my gaze hardening, "I will never stop seeking HIM. I have sold my life, my very soul, to this purpose. I live for nothing more than vengeance. If others can find contentment in other things, then I wish them well. But I will never stray from my self-appointed purpose. You may follow me, possibly to your death, but only if you have found, like me, that you cannot bear to live doing anything else."

          Mason smiled slightly and grasped my wrist, which was still on his shoulder, firmly, "Aye, sir. Whatever you ask of me, I will do, in hopes that it will one day take HIM down."

          I grinned and released his shoulder with a pat, "Luck to you, Mason. May the night treat you well." I spun and dashed off to the scouting spot I picked out.

          Behind me, a quiet voice answered, "And to you, Damon." before footsteps carried the voice farther to my right. I hunkered down, preparing myself for the next two hours before my shift was up.