A Warrior through and through

After.

It had been exactly one year three days since I last saw her. The war was over. The cities and towns were recovering slowly, but surely. Soldiers were coming back every day; either on foot or in a coffin. There was a mixture of sadness and relief in the air.

 It was spring. Her favorite time of the year. I went outside only for short periods of time, for too much reminded me of her. Too much. I could remember how the sun reflected on her tanned skin, how the light used to dance in her amber eyes as she looked at me. I remember her smile. That beautiful smile. I remember her touch, how hard her calloused hands felt in contrast to her arm which was as smooth as silk. I remembered her soft lips.....

There was work to do. I opened my eyes and got out of bed. I wore a shirt that was on the floor, and made my way to the kitchen. There was no food in the pantry. The dirty dishes were stacked to high heaven in the sink. I had not bothered to wash them for a while now. Actually, I had not bothered to wash anything. The house was a mess. There were books strewn on the floor, the fireplace had a mountain of ash, the floor was dirty save for the parts where I spilled water by mistake. The air was stale, I had not opened the windows or curtains for two weeks now.

I was hungry though there was no food. even though I did not want to go, I had to make another trip to the town. But first I had to do something about this place. I opened the kitchen curtains and windows. The light that came through revealed the huge amount of dust in the air. This was unacceptable. Dust destroyed books. I focused and waved my hand. The dust particles begun to float out of the window, and the stale air was being replaced by fresh mountain air.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. I stopped waving my hand, though I kept my focus on replacing the air. I walked to the door slowly. Who was that, knocking on my door? I had not received any visitor since word spread that she was dead. The knock came again, loud as if he was banging his fist on the door. I quickened my pace now that my curiosity was sparked. What was so urgent?

I opened the door. By his frame I could tell that it was a man in a cloak. He looked vaguely familiar though I could not see his face under the hood.

"What do you want?" I asked, feigning annoyance. My voice was raspy, for I had not used it in a long time.

"Is that how you speak to old friends?" The man in the cloak asked. That voice.....I knew that voice.

"My friends don't cover their faces like thieves or bandits"

The man in the cloak laughed, "Very well, friend," He said, spitting out the word friend like it was an insult. He brought his hands to the hood of the cloak and pulled it back, looking up at me.

I was stunned. How did he find me? I could recognize that scar crossing his eye anywhere; because I gave it to him. His beard was graying but otherwise he was  the same as before.

"Hello Davim," I said, my voice as cold as steel.