Hand in hand we walk the miles

Home. A concept so familiar and yet foreign at the same time. Her whispers collected in him like an old song which one loved yet could not fully remember. The rhythm was there and yet the words failed to spring to his lips.

“I am here with you Echolark” He stated in a humble voice, the women drawing the bath looked on quietly as their task went on, one bowl of water at a time. As they finished they turned instinctively to him for further instructions and yet he motioned them away. He would tend to her himself.

With the door closed he drew his hand across her cheek, feeling the warmth of life in her beyond the layer of loam and earthen debris. He did not know what to say at first and looked to the tub.

“It would be best if we take this earth from your flesh.” He began to slowly remove her garments, chunks of earth, root and vine escaped from between flesh and soiled linen. Before long her form was bare and he slowly lowered her into the warm waters of the tub. He worked methodically and slowly spending time to remove each speck of dirt, every fragment of mica and flint that clung to her. Before long the waters were a shade of murky brown that resembled chocolate. Seeing this the druid motioned his bare ring finger over the water and wove words in a staccato rhythm until the water eddied and the brown sediment began to channel upward until a solid column of earth was a yard from the water’s surface and with the wave of a finger in an arc it expunged itself from the tub rendering it once again clear and warm. The dirt of course collected in a mound beside Nae’ril.

He paused and looked upon her and undid the toggles at his burlap cloak . As it collapsed behind him his studded leather armor marked in patterns of varying greens came to view. At his side was his scimitar, whose hilt bore her likeness. Much about his appearance had not changed but his demeanor was different.

Please don’t let this be a nightmare. We are so close. Please let this be real. Even if for a minute. He thought to himself.

He broke his thought and took back to the task of her hair, his slender fingers running through her strong locks of hair. So many nights his hands would reach out in his bed high in the elder oak, seeking her phantom body and raking into nothingness.

So many nights.