Instadrabbling at the Ribbon-Cutting Event by elennalore

Russingon drabble

The moment of parting is always the hardest. Then I just ride away. I don’t turn back to see you standing there, smiling encouragingly. We never know if it’s the last time. When I’m with you I forget the war – despite your maimed hand, or perhaps just because of it. We don’t linger in the past; we don’t think of the future. I already miss your warmth when you hold me close.

We both know we must harden ourselves to survive. That’s why I don’t look back. When I cross the first river, I let go the memory of you.