Alexandria followed him to the fence, but could go no further.

He stood there staring at her with those blue-green eyes. Eyes, deep somehow – they seemed to hold the weight of the sky in their watery recesses. Years later, Alexandria would recall the sunburn that painted his cheecks red, and the tiny freckles on the bridge of his nose.

Years later, Alexandria would wish that she left the mountains that day.

The wind stirred his straw-colored hair and her long blue skirts. It seemed to carry with it the unintelligible voice of change. Almost like sad, keening music.

The world spoke in golds and greens all around them, but Alexandria couldn’t find a single word to say.

I’m sorry it has to be this way, his eyes told her heart. I wish you were coming with me.

“Take care of yourself,” was all he said, his hand grazing her rose-colored cheek.

I love you, her heart screamed, but her mouth was silent as he flung his pack over his shoulder and set out across the whispering grass.

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