Now I pass those lands. Charred trunks left—black fingers pointing sky, ash crunching underfoot like bones, shadows of dead. Earth remembers blood longer than people names.
I was removed from front. Officially—special assignments. Unofficially—know too much, ask too many questions. Now guard peaceful lands. Honorable exile.
Esten's anger doesn't fade. He won't forgive—pride won't allow. I don't ask forgiveness—conscience won't. Both right in our wrongness.
Interesting to recall walking other mines, other time, to other death. Principle same—feel earth, listen wind, don't trust orders. Simple rules bought with others' blood.
Once I loved him like brother. Now that love—ghost on charred hills. He chose duty, I life. Both paid price.
In night silence when wind carries Black Hills' scent, I hear his voice and think: what if he's right? But life no fairy tale with right path. It's chaos where each choice—dice throw.
Yet I go. Through fate's mines, edge between truth and lie, duty and freedom. That's essence of being—in motion, choice, seeking harmony amid dissonance.
Each step may be last. But isn't that how we always live?
Enough philosophy. Road waits, mines don't sleep. Time to move—carefully, quietly, remembering our choices' price.