The Mark

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     With a stern expression, Kratos kneels down in front of the tree given the mark of his wife, now deceased. Taking a moment he raises his had and gently rests it upon the it's bark. Closing his eyes and resting his tired mind against the lasting memory of his wife; accepting fate as it may be.

     Kratos releases the moment of silence and retracts himself. Rising to his feet and never losing eye contact. He raises his ax and releases upon the tree with a pained expression. Each swing becoming heavier, filled to the brim with emotion only spoken with exasperated yells. Kratos let's out one last cry to be answered by the tree's cry of its own.

     With his height and stature he looms over the tree, but as he reaches over the bandages on his left arm loosen and unravel to little extent. Kratos pulls his arm back and clenched his hand into a loose fist. Closing his eyes he lets his past flash through his mind for a brief moment. Releasing a breath to the crisp winter air, he tightens his bandages around his arm. Resealing the wound of his past inflicted unto him by the Gods. 

     "I Found some."

     The boy says as he peered over his father's side causing Kratos to turn away. The boy peers to the other side of his father in childish curiosity, the emotional distance between the two only growing wider.

     "Get in the boat, boy."

     The boy nods in expectance and heads off to the boat. Kratos makes his last hugs at the bandages, bracing himself and casually lifts the tree trunk over his shoulder. Leaves fall as the unmatched pair walk towards the boat. The silence of the forest met with their own footsteps. One stern and the other uneasy, but both filled with the sorrow of loss.

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