The fire crackled with a will; the flames lashed about by the gusts of wind that blew up from the plain. Their camp had been hastily set, but to Steppan’s eye it looked just as homely as any. The trio had been on the road for some weeks now, each day feeling longer and more tedious than the next, and ever did the sense of urgency creep into the back of the man’s mind. Looking at his mighty comrades, who now lazed about the fire taking their fill of a much-needed meal, Steppan wondered how things could have changed so much in the brief years of his life. Peace and quiet had long since been replaced by the loud ringing of swords, and the heavy pounding of hooves. He wondered if he would ever live a life of peace again, or if he would be forever urged forward by threat or urgency.
Leaning back against the crooked tree, the weary man peered across the land and upward to the clear blue sky. Thin whisps of cloud hung above the forest plains below, causing brief shadows to dance upon the woodland. Birds sang, and the wind buffeted their cozy nook, ebbing to calm as though between breaths. Steppan’s body ached. Not only from the many days of constant travel, but from the manifold wounds he carried upon his body, a chronicle of his life written in flesh. Some were new, and some were old, but all ached with the dull pain of memory, and regret. Slowing rising to his feet to walk towards the edge of the cleft, Steppan nodded to himself, accepting that there would be no peace at the end. There was none for men like him. He would one day be cut down like so many he had seen before. Buried in some forsaken knoll hundreds of leagues from his home and remembered only in the hearts and minds of the comrades who placed him there.
He chuckled to himself, the mighty wind now rushing through his tattered hair and causing his cloak to wrap tightly about his legs. With another slow nod he sighed. Such was his life. And such would be his death. There could be no settled life for him. Perish the very thought! Death would come for him soon, and he would battle it to the very last, only to finally lean upon its breast and welcome its embrace.
