War of Souls part 2

 

He rose to his feet. The sun had stopped rising and was about to set. He brushed himself off the undergrowth, drew his sword, wiped it on the grass, and tucked it into his belt. He approached his horse, which was grazing in the spring grass, gave it a tug. He swung into the saddle. Another glance at the surroundings. A deep sigh signaled his recovery. His thoughts seemed more sober. He spurred his horse on with his heels and was about to ride away when he suddenly saw a white dove. A rare sight in these parts, as doves don't venture into the forest. This one, however, betrayed something else entirely. A moment later, however, it turned out a hawk was chasing him, and the dove, fearing capture, decided to take refuge in the forest. The enormous and agile hawk's advantage was so great that the dove's life was at stake. The hawk caught its prey after a few moments; they continued to struggle, and the pigeon even managed to escape briefly. However, the predator renewed its attack, the weakened bird surrendered, and moments later found itself struggling in the hawk's talons, which landed with its prey on a branch to rest. During this entire struggle, he noticed that something had fallen to the ground on the pigeon's back. He dismounted and looked up again. The hawk ignored the observer. He sat proudly on the branch, his beak slightly open, and with his menacing gaze, he proved to the world that he was the lord of the skies.

He approached the spot where the bird seemed to have dropped something. He bent down and began searching the grass with his hands. After a while, he came across an oval leather object with two strings dangling from the end; these strings must have become untied during the struggle. This struck him as very strange. He'd heard of birds that carried letters long distances, but he'd thought they were just stories told in homes in the evenings to pass the time. However, he had something in his hand, something the bird had dropped. He turned and looked at the branch where a hawk sat with its prey. At that moment, the predator took off and silently flew with its prey deep into the forest. He examined the object carefully; on one side, the lid could be turned. Pulling harder, it opened. Inside was a roll of paper. He guessed it was a letter. Raised not to invade anyone's privacy, he debated for a long time whether he should open it. However, he knew it was the only way to find out who it belonged to. Slowly, he unrolled the scroll.

"Why can't I be with you somewhere now, sitting quietly in the comfort of my seat, having a quiet conversation?

Why can't I take your hands on my shoulder, feel your head?

Why can't I share every breath, every bite of bread, every joy and every pain with you... and that's all I need to miss you forever...?"

He read the letter for a long time. Several, a dozen, times. He felt strange. He sat down on the grass. Suddenly, he felt as if someone were watching him. He had seen too many signs in recent days to think it was just a coincidence. He felt that Someone wanted to tell him something, but what—not to go? So why now, when he had already decided? The very decision to leave was a challenge for him. He began to fear his thoughts again, so he interrupted them, looked angrily at the letter, folded it, and put it in the leather pouch hanging at his side.

He set off. He decided he wouldn't look back anymore. He loved traveling, exploring, being in new places, learning new things about them. Every corner of his homeland had its own story, after all; he just had to look hard enough. However, this journey was a one-way trip; even if he returned to his family home one day, he would be treated like a guest. So he rode fast to outrun such thoughts. He loved feeling the wind on his face, sometimes a cool breeze as he entered the dense forest, sometimes a warm breeze as he sped across the open. The horse, as if finally in its element, galloped ahead at a steady gallop. Its long mane, flowing sideways, tickled his face as he leaned under the branches, the breeze rustling in his ears, and the dull sound of hooves could be heard. He bought his horse the day he turned 18. From then on, he rode it almost daily. He enjoyed going to the stables, even on rainy days, where he would take a currycomb and groom him until his black coat took on a lustrous sheen. Then came the mane and tail, which, combed with a special comb, took on wavy shapes. The horse waited patiently, and from the gleaming of his large eyes, it was clear he enjoyed these caresses. Now, together, in unison, they traversed the landscape, which they saw less often due to the distance, until new places began to appear. The landscape slowly began to change; they passed more and more rivers and lakes, the forests became wetter, the trees thicker, and the vegetation lusher. The sun slowly began to sink below the horizon, so they needed shelter for the night. He reached a place from where he could see a city in the distance. There he decided to take shelter for the night. In a meadow near the forest, he noticed haystacks where he could spend the night. Apparently, the farmers hadn't harvested everything and had left it for the winter; it must have been a fertile area, with last year's harvest bountiful. However, the March air had already dried out, and it was safe to take shelter from the night's chill. He watered his horse in the river that flowed from the forest and headed toward the city. He gathered wood, built a fire, and ate the meal his mother had prepared for him before leaving. He was about to go to bed when he remembered the letter. He took it out. A pleasant warmth warmed his bare feet, a pale yellow glow fell on the green grass, and a pleasant silence reigned, broken only by the crackle of burning wood. A damp, thick fog slowly began to rise from the ground. He began reading again. He felt some inner connection with this woman. He couldn't explain it. Some strange twist of fate had brought their paths together. He didn't know where she was, but he had something that belonged to her. Who she was, what she was doing now, what she dreamed of, and who he missed so much...

He stoked the fire and dug into the hay. Spring would arrive in a few days, so the constellation of Virgo, with its bright Spica, was visible in the sky, and behind it, Leo was slowly emerging with its trapezoidal head. For as long as he could remember, he had always loved staring at the sky. The first constellation he recognized was Orion. At first, he thought it was just those three stars. Later, his father showed him only Orion's belt. A hunter appeared in the sky with a bow, a hat, and a plume. He slowly learned to recognize the other constellations. Today, before falling asleep, he could see Leo, slowly arcing across the black sky.

The sun, already gently warming him high in the sky, woke him. He got up and looked around. The horse had long since broken loose and was grazing on grass near the river. He never tied him too tightly to a tree; he knew the horse would never leave him. He washed his face in cold water, sat down on the grass, and began to wonder what to do. He needed money, so he had to find work before he had to travel any further. Somehow, subconsciously, he decided to seek a life abroad. He never said it out loud; it was just how he felt. Times had changed, they had become more peaceful, and one could travel the world freely. He didn't want to go far; he wanted to know that he could return at any moment when he missed his family terribly. He decided to go to the city. He saddled his horse and slowly made his way toward the city, which was situated on both sides of the river.

Riding along the river, he noticed five granaries lined up side by side on its banks. He smiled faintly; he knew the dangers of such a layout of wooden buildings. It only took one to catch fire, and all the rest would burn with it. He had often seen such fires in his youth. The blaze would start with a barn, then burn other buildings, the houses people lived in, and their entire life's work. His grandfather had told him that when he was a child, an entire village had burned down this way. It all started with a single barn, and a strong August wind did the rest.

He slowly made his way towards the granaries; there he had to find something to do. They gladly accepted him. There was a lot of work; everything had to be prepared for the summer harvest all spring long. Fixing the leaky roof, replacing rotten wall boards, repairing the stairs, and sealing the granary chambers. That evening, he received his payment, but to the workers' delight, he promised to return the next day. Even though he had enough money to rent a room in the city, he decided to return to the lake where he had spent the first night. Contact with nature always benefited him. It was then that he felt calm, as if time had stopped for him. It was then that he most often encountered the green-eyed Soul, on whom he could always count. He would remain silent then, or speak quietly, telling her everything he knew very well. They often argued and teased each other. These were unforgettable moments, the thought of which made his heart beat faster for a moment.

He reached the spot where the horse was, set free in the meadow, and he undressed and entered the river. The icy water immediately brought him back to his senses, his thoughts became clearer, and his mind reacted faster. He was about to leave when he noticed someone in the meadow. The sun had long since set, and it was slowly getting dark, so it was difficult for him to recognize the person who had sat down by the haystack where he had slept. He quickly gathered his clothes and hid in the forest. There, he quickly dressed. From her movements and clothing, he guessed it was a woman. He couldn't see her face, but he glanced at the horse, which had just spotted its master's hut and began to look around. The woman, her back turned, hadn't noticed him yet.

It struck him as odd. Alone, late at night, far from the city, and she seemed in no hurry to get home. A strange sight. He decided to approach her and prove who she was. So many strange things had been happening in his life lately that things like this surprised him the least. He approached her closely, but even so, he couldn't see her face in the darkness. When she heard him, she raised her head.

"Is that your horse?"

She didn't even get up. She watched the entire time, sitting with her hands folded in her lap. So she had seen him before. He remembered the bath in the river, and a blush spread across his face. They began to talk, somehow strangely, but the only strangeness was that, without knowing each other, they spoke as if they had known each other for years. Perhaps they both knew that this meeting would soon be over and they would probably never see each other again. He didn't mind, though, and the longer the conversation went on, the longer he wanted to stay with her. There were moments of silence, long silences that, when talking to someone else, would have made him feel awkward and uncomfortable. It was strange to see two people sitting at night, whispering to each other, sometimes bursting into laughter together, and laughing together as they lay on the ground. Time passed so quickly that when the brightening eastern sky made them aware of the time of day, they hurriedly said goodbye, she ran toward the city, and he went to bed. For the first time in a long time, a smile appeared on his face, and that's how he fell asleep...

The sun woke him as usual, and he remembered his work. A quick dip in the river, and a moment later he was working on the renovation of the second granary. As usual, the work left him with the feeling of a day well spent by the end of the day. The pleasant fatigue, even the ache in his back, brought peace, and he smiled to himself. He smiled for another reason too—he remembered last night and evening. Today he didn't think about where he would spend the night. He just chose a slightly different spot for his bath, more remote, in the forest. When he returned to the place where they had met the previous day, she was already waiting for him. He sat down beside him...

So the days passed. Evening meetings took place daily. When the last granary was finished, he felt a sadness. A sadness he had known many times before. It slowly returned, wondering what to do. He knew that something was ending again and a decision had to be made. Suddenly, he realized he hadn't yet seen the woman with whom he'd spent his last evenings. In all that time, he hadn't felt the need to look closely at someone to whom he'd recently devoted so much of his life. He felt strange, unsure if he would do the right thing once he crossed this final threshold of getting to know each other. In fact, he began to wonder about the essence of this friendship, what purpose it served. What was it that made them sit up late at night, staring into the distance, unable to see each other, yet each night they felt some inner need to be together? But he decided to take a chance. Earlier today, he prepared some firewood in front of the haystack and quickly hid in the forest. He wanted to see the girl's reaction. When it grew dark, he noticed her walking slowly from the direction of town. When she approached the haystack, she noticed the firewood prepared. She sat down as always and waited. She could have gone back, run away, and forgotten about him. But she stayed, and as usual, her hands folded in her lap, she waited for him. He approached, sat down opposite her, and slowly began to light the fire. At first, they felt unnaturally close; they were afraid to look at each other. Only after a while did their eyes meet. At first, her eyes seemed blue to him, but when the flames began to burn brighter, he realized that hers were green. Green...

This evening was different, so different from those that had gone before. They had crossed the final barrier and had already gotten to know each other completely. They sat together, their feet turned to the fire, warming them and gazing at the sky. How he longed to stop time then, to feel what he felt just then, when his thoughts had stopped, his heart had evened out... he just wanted to touch her... just once, to feel her touch. Touch... how important and symbolic it was, only he knew. He wasn't talking about a handshake, a casual touch, or even a goodbye kiss. Touch was an awareness of mutual closeness, the physical and intimate contact between two people. That placing of his hand on hers, that cupping of her face as he cupped the face of his soul before parting... touch, that deep gaze into each other's eyes... touch, even the brush of a fingertip across hers... but through all of that, he could hurt both her and himself... besides, it seemed strange that such thoughts could come to him in such a short time. Life had taught him to be cautious about expressing his feelings. He had always dreamed of someone who understood perfectly what he was thinking, someone who had the same approach to these matters. The ideal relationship – a union of souls, when souls are together—bodies can be far apart, yet still be close. It seemed so confusing and difficult to explain to him that he had never spoken of it to anyone. He had never even dreamed of meeting someone like that, and that was probably why he was alone. And now, when it seemed to him that someone was sitting next to him who felt the same way, thought the same way, who didn't mind silence, staring at the stars, instead of rejoicing—fear gripped him. As if he couldn't believe he'd finally gotten what he'd dreamed of for so many years, as if he didn't think he deserved it. There were other reasons, too. After all, he was on a journey; he couldn't interrupt what he'd already decided. This whole battle was taking place inside his head; he hadn't talked about it; after all, he didn't know the woman's feelings. He didn't know her well enough to say all this; she might have been surprised. He couldn't interfere so much in her life; she could have had a man, after all. He himself had once had women from whom he fled into solitude, with whom he felt bad, yet he stayed because he was afraid of hurting himself. One day, he ended it all, and he was alone. He probably preferred to leave it to God, who knows best how to arrange it all.

He looked at her; she seemed to be sleeping. He took out a crumpled piece of paper with words he already knew by heart written on it. And, as he did every evening, he began to read. The girl slept beside him, facing him. She was truly a beautiful woman. He lay down next to her and, gazing at her, fell asleep...

The next day, he awoke to the morning chill. The fire had long since died down, and the sun was slowly rising over the horizon. Spring came that night. The girl was gone. He got up and looked around. The horse, as usual, was grazing nearby, nibbling at the green grass. He turned and noticed that the note he'd been reading that evening lay folded over the woman's sleeping surface. It was folded, so she must have seen and read it. He felt strange, and he leaned over to pick it up. As he picked it up, feathers spilled out... his heart pounded so hard he could hear a pounding in his chest, his vision went black, and he had to sit down to recover... he lifted one feather... one small, dove-like feather... tears began to stream down his cheeks—so it was her... he thought.