Like the ringing of a death knell, a smile creeps across the skull face of my company.  It is a strange expression, one that fills me with no sense of joy, not a touch of sunlight on a cloudy day.  One that seems tinged with the mourning of something lost - or someone.

I cannot say for sure.  I know nothing of his past, only the present image before me.  Still, the ring of familiarity echoes within my mind, as though I am looking into a warped mirror at myself.  Despite my best attempts to avoid connections with others, I cannot deny the invisible bonds between myself and the occasional stranger I meet.  What motivates my own flat nature might be wholy different, yet the ending result is the same.  A hollow smile, a hollow gaze, a hollow voice.

He confirms my suspicions.  Against the odds, I find a comrade in the wilderness and pale light of morning.  One word clings to my ears, like gossamer threads of a spider, light and persistent: fate.
I could scoff internally at the word.
Fate.
I hated the idea, the notion, that we are dragged by preordained chains into our future - the alternative thought being you are in control of your own life.  Perhaps more terrifying than fate and destiny, that I could have changed my life by my own will and actions.

Would I have felt such loss if I had not been a weak coward?  Could I have saved her, saved them?  Might I have saved myself entirely?

I blink the thoughts away in one swift fall of my lashes, listening to his words yet strangely choosing to ignore them.  The reality of my current position is clear as day, even in the dim light of early morning as the sun races to fill the sky.  There is no bargain, no advantage, no offer great enough to force my allegience to some king and his bloodied crown.  I had already done such in the search for revenge, but it left myself more broken and corroded than when my journey began.

I have experienced the loyalty of which he speaks.  Maybe my age will begin to show, yet I know full and well even the trust earned can be broken as easily as flesh.  The curve of my lips upturn as he calls out my cynical view point, but I am not inclined to change my perspective.
One day the ice would melt, but it is not today.

"I am a cynic," I admit, my voice flat and unmoved.  "That is well earned in my life, more so than any loyalty."  Do I speak of my own losses or my own actions?  Both have rendered someone devoid of trust, I suppose.  I knew the nature of a creature pushed into a corner, and it is ugly in its kindest description.  I also knew of the lengths to which another will go for loyalty.

I may be a cynic, but I am learning that to be alone is better than to be a puppet for malice and murder.  
""