The river whispers secrets to the moon tonight, a hushed lullaby that seems to echo the quiet settling within me. We made camp on a bluff overlooking the water, the horses hobbled and grazing a little ways off. Billy hummed a tuneless melody as he built the fire, his movements economical and practiced. There's a competence about him that belies his age, a self-reliance forged in hardship, I suspect.
The flames dance, casting flickering shadows that play across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the soft curve of his lips. I find myself watching him, truly watching him, as if trying to memorize every detail. It's a dangerous habit, this cataloging of his mortal form. It invites attachment, a tether to this fleeting existence that I swore to avoid.
But avoidance feels…wrong. It feels like a betrayal of something precious, something that has taken root within me despite my best efforts. He glances up, catching my gaze, and a slow smile spreads across his face. "What are you starin' at, Tak?" he asks, his voice laced with amusement.
"Just admiring the view," I reply, turning my gaze towards the moonlit river. It's a half-truth, of course. The view is beautiful, but it's nothing compared to the captivating landscape of his soul. He chuckles, a warm, comforting sound that settles in my chest.
We eat in silence, sharing a piece of dried meat and some hardtack. The food is simple, but the company is exquisite. I find myself lingering over each bite, savoring the moment as if it were the last. Perhaps it is, in a way. Each moment with him is a finite treasure, a jewel destined to fade with time.
As the fire dies down, casting long, skeletal shadows, Billy spreads out his bedroll. He doesn't speak, but I sense a question in his eyes, an unspoken invitation. I hesitate, caught between my ingrained detachment and the yearning that claws at my insides.
The canyon passage from yesterday still hangs heavy between us, a chasm of unspoken truths. I had turned away from his vulnerability, from the raw honesty that he offered so freely. And now, I fear, I have damaged something irreparable. Now, I fear, he will not offer it again.
He settles down, turning his back to me, and I know that I have made my choice. The silence stretches, thick and heavy, punctuated only by the crackling embers and the distant hoot of an owl. I lie down a few feet away, staring up at the star-strewn sky, feeling a profound sense of loss.
Sleep comes slowly, a restless, troubled slumber filled with fragmented dreams and half-formed regrets. I dream of endless plains and towering mountains, of ancient cities and forgotten gods. But through it all, his face flickers, a constant reminder of what I am sacrificing.
Sometime in the middle of the night, I feel a shift, a subtle movement beside me. I open my eyes to find Billy turned towards me, his face bathed in the soft glow of the moon. He's asleep, his brow furrowed, his lips slightly parted.
And then, he leans. Just a small shift, a gentle inclination of his body, until his shoulder rests against mine. A jolt of electricity courses through me, a shock of pure, unadulterated sensation. I could pull away. I should pull away. But I don't.
I hold my breath, afraid to disturb him, afraid to break the fragile connection that has formed between us. I lie perfectly still, allowing his weight to settle against me, feeling the warmth of his body seep into my own. It's a small gesture, a simple act of trust, but it feels like the most profound intimacy I have ever known.
In that moment, under the watchful gaze of the moon and the silent witness of the stars, I surrender. I relinquish my carefully constructed defenses, my centuries of detachment, and allow myself to feel. To truly feel. I let the weight of his mortality settle upon me, and I embrace it. For tonight, at least, I am not a god. I am simply Tak, a being who loves another, with all the attendant joy and sorrow that such a love entails.
I will hold this moment, this shared warmth under the cold light of the moon, as a sacred thing. A memory to be cherished, a reminder of the brief, incandescent beauty of mortal love. Because I know, with a certainty that chills me to the bone, that this is all we will ever have. This stolen moment, this borrowed peace, this fleeting glimpse of eternity within the confines of a single night.
The fire crackles, a small defiance against the vast, indifferent dark. We’ve made camp on a bluff overlooking the river, the water a ribbon of silver under the moon’s gaze. The air is cool, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. It is a night for stories, for whispered secrets under a blanket of stars, but silence hangs heavy between us, a consequence of unspoken truths.
Earlier, in the canyon, Billy had asked a question with his eyes, a question that echoed in the narrow space between the rock walls. A question I refused to answer. A question about forever. About us. About the impossible chasm that stretches between my endless existence and his fleeting one.
Now, the weight of that silence presses down, a physical thing. I tend the fire, adding small branches, watching the flames dance and writhe. Each flicker is a moment, burning bright and then gone, a mirror to the lives I’ve witnessed, the loves I’ve lost. Each one a painful lesson I seem destined to repeat.
Billy sits a few feet away, his back to a gnarled oak, whittling a piece of wood. The shavings fall to the ground like discarded memories. He doesn’t speak, but I can feel his gaze on me, questioning, searching. I avoid his eyes, focusing on the mesmerizing dance of the fire.
He’s been quieter tonight, the usual spark dimmed. I know I’ve wounded him, perhaps irrevocably. My fear, my self-preservation, has built a wall between us, a barrier that may prove too high to scale. And yet, I cannot bring myself to tear it down. The cost is too great. For both of us.
The night deepens, the stars growing brighter, more numerous. The river whispers its ancient song, a lullaby of time and change. I should tell him. I should confess the truth, lay bare the burden of my immortality. But the words catch in my throat, strangled by fear.
What would he do if he knew? Would he recoil in horror? Would he pity me? Or, perhaps worse, would he accept it, embrace it, and bind himself to a fate he cannot possibly comprehend?
The thought of him tethered to my endless existence, a bright flame slowly consumed by an eternal fire, is unbearable. Better to let him go. Better to sever the connection now, before it takes root too deeply.
But even as I tell myself this, I know it is a lie. The roots have already burrowed deep, entwined around my very being. He is a part of me now, woven into the fabric of my soul. And the thought of losing him is a pain so profound it threatens to unravel me.
He shifts, a small movement that breaks the spell of my thoughts. He’s finished whittling, and holds up the small wooden figure for me to see. It’s a horse, crudely carved but full of life. He smiles, a tentative, fragile thing.
"For you," he says, his voice soft, barely audible above the crackling fire. "So you won’t forget me."
The words strike me like a blow. Forget him? How could I ever forget him? He is the brightest star in my endless night, the one spark of joy in a universe of sorrow. The thought of forgetting him is a sacrilege, an impossibility.
I reach out, taking the wooden horse from his hand. My fingers brush against his, a fleeting touch that sends a jolt of electricity through me. I look into his eyes, and see a vulnerability that mirrors my own.
He is afraid, too. Afraid of losing me. Afraid of the unknown. Afraid of the future that stretches before him, a future that I cannot share.
He leans against me, his head resting on my shoulder. The weight of him is comforting, grounding. He smells of smoke and leather and something else, something uniquely his own. A scent that I will carry with me long after he is gone.
I hold him close, my arms wrapped around him, and close my eyes. The fire crackles, the river whispers, and the stars wheel overhead. In this moment, time stands still. In this moment, we are simply two souls, seeking solace in the darkness.
I know what I must do. I must tell him the truth. I must trust him with the burden of my immortality. I must give him the choice, the freedom to decide whether he wants to share my fate.
But not tonight. Tonight, I will simply hold him close, and cherish this moment. Tonight, I will pretend that we have all the time in the world. Tonight, I will let him lean on me, and I will try to be strong enough to bear the weight of his love.
