These lone thoughts that often whispered through me even in sleep, they too whispered through our camp, on shrouded nights such as this. More than a lark to them was the tale to be told of he who would lead them some day, when I was gone. The saturated air, layers of undusted fog enveloped the camp when they would think thoughts so far ahead, beyond the steel wall. There latent days would fall over the other side, a chasm to engulf. The deeds here would end for some of us, but more would come past the shimmering vapor, the undaunted wall, fluid in it’s mortar.
My son would lead, they all knew. Casting aside the thoughts of him atop a raging white steed. But, they knew he would lead, they knew him but as of one they couldn’t grasp in the hollows of word. But, aside the silence and the dry dirt, the droughts of saturated air, and the glimmer of hills shuddering to and fro past the layers of fog, there was pieces of his story to be told.
[tab]Soon to be in my place, aside a small steep grade hill; my son would kick the dust, marvel at a crooked tree growing out from the side of the hill. What sky there was in view unobstructed by the hill, was blue. Unyieldingly blue. And then a sigh and more dust flicked up in the air. Even a rock that could roll down to his feet or an imperceptible cry over the pass would have brought him to lean against the slope and close his eyes. But, the wind wouldn’t even shift the blue haze above him an inch. All would be still.
The camp knew that would be where some resolve to lead would come, but as the low flying clouds shifted exposing a new horizon, they sensed their new leader far latter than the hill, astray and near broken. The circumstances would be unknown. His mood too, would be left for wonder. All that the camp would see, hear, when they sensed these whispering thoughts on these ephemerally inscribed nights, was his eyes. Harsh deep set eyes, so sunken as to be lying in a chasm, but still remaining to show fierce past all other facial expressions. Maybe burning with rage, desperation, resolve, such was unknown. But, the flaring, all encompassing, but still silent glimmering eyes would remain deep in the hearts of those who heard the whispers those nights behind the tidal wall.[/tab]