I WILL LIVE FOR YOU

It was a peaceful day within the Edge. The clouds were mere wisps, the breeze was light, and the sun was warm. Ever so slowly, the mists were finally beginning to depart the forests, drawing back to the cliffs that lined the northern most borders. It was the first day of Tallsun, and like the beginning of any season, it brought with it, changes. Changes in the colors of the world, the weather, even the songs that the birds chose to sing. But for one, the first day of Tallsun seemed no different than any other.

A darkness had fallen over the light that was Xanthos' soul. He was stil the kindred stallion that he had always been, but something deep inside of him had shattered. It had rendered him a silent creature as of late, and the grullo often found himself sulking in the depths of the lush, green forests of the Edge. It was pathetic, really, at least in his mind. He had accomplished what some might consider a daunting task, and yet all he could find himself doing was brooding and moping. Time and time again, he had wondered if he should simply try and move on, but the answer was the same every time.

He couldn't.

Xanthos vividly recalled the day in the Thistle Meadow, when he had taken a day to simply lounge about in the warm Birdsong sun. The trip had had no reason other than to provide him a lazy, afternoon outlet, but it had turned into so much more than that. Heartbreak, disbelief, and agony.

Sucking in a deep breath and then roughly letting it out, the Wraith have a hard flick of his tail. A few flies went buzzing away, but the incessant pests were back only seconds later. He stood beneath the shade of great, towering Loblollys, taking refuge from the sun's unending rays. It was no surprise that he was alone in his quiet reverie, for other than Mirage and the quiet, inky stallion he'd met only days ago, none had bothered to approach him. Xanthos might have attempted to break the tension between himself and the rest of the herd, but he would wait until other matters were settled first.

It was the sound of laughter that pulled Xanthos from his thoughts, snapping his ears to attention and his eyes open, slitted pupils shrinking against the sudden light that flooded into them. Had he been imagining it? He'd not made out any of the words, but the tone in which spoke them... They sounded sickeningly familiar. With curiousity, the grullo began to move from his spot, black tipped ears twitching for the sounds of more voices, or movement.

Little than a minute had passed before he found himself nearing the small stream that passed through the Edge. Xanthos was prepared to meet the gaze of his Weyrleader and her faithful companion, Akaith, or even the scrutinizing glare of Sage. However, what his eyes did fall upon was something, someone, entirely unexpected. Romani, and the striped cub that had been in the Thistle not so long ago.

For a moment, all that Xanthos could do was stare, wondering if this all might be a sick dream that he would wake from any second now. But when it didn't happen, he found his breath again, and found his feet moving closer to the mare's palomino form. "R-... Romani?" The word was strangled, as if fearing another bout of rejection and pain. But he had told Romani that should she remember all within two weeks, to come to the Edge, and seek him out.

He was scared to speak more, afraid that her golden form would begin to crumble and decay like dust, blowing away in the wind. But somehow, somewhere deep within himself, he found the will to do it anyways. "Is it really you, Romani?" He asked, coming to a stop and stretching his muzzle out towards her, a tender, timid action, "Do... Do you remember me?"

BEFORE I DIE