The Trail (MAJOR EDITING IN PROGRESS)

Iron

"You haven't thought about it have you?" Holland asked me.

"No, I don't really want to know why it worked."

He said nothing, but stared at the rising sun over the trail. Behind us, are the remnants of war. Skulls grin from beneath fallen logs and mounds of frozen dirt, and somewhere nearby a bird twitters over the frozen mountainside. Our fire burned brightly through the remaining hours of night, and now it begins to smolder, as if the sun's brightness is putting it out.

"I don't know why we of all people were able to injure the spirits, but we did."

Holland had protected me from a blow, taking a rack of claws to his back as he spun around to retaliate.

"That's what made me snap, made me lose my sense of self. All I could think was his life verses mine. I unleashed the fury and loving protection in my heart, destroying the physical embodiment that the creatures had taken."

Holland flipped out his phone, and tried to turn it on knowing that it wouldn't.

"Yours too," I stated.

"Yep."

"Lucy, did you ever think of them?" He asked.

"I didn't think of my family much during this, did I? I wonder how many police they've called, and how Holland's parents feel- My God! How would his and my parents have felt if Holland and I died? Would his family forgive mine? Would they feel like failures as parents?"

"What does that say about me?"

"It's obvious what your priorities are."

I brought my hand to my face and choked.

"Lucy, it's okay."

"It ultimately isn't Holland, based on my beliefs in God. To you though, it's perfectly fine. So who's right between the two of us?"

The gentle glow over the horizon is the signal that the sun rising. Half an orange can be seen over the eastern edge of the trail. Rays of rainbows skirt across the tops of the dormant trees, kissing this desolate area with life.

Everything that happened here before is going to stop, because I destroyed the souls of those here.

"I wish I hadn't. The worst form of death is the death of a soul. Even eternal torture cannot beat that."

"We should go," Holland remarked.

"I know," I stared at the trail around us, and the vast expanse of the sky.

"This is what you've been missing. Computers are fine, but you've neglected this part of yourself."

My bandages are dirty, and there is mud on my burns. It's numb now, which makes me happy, but the rational part of my mind is telling me it's a bad thing.

"You ready?" He asks.

"Your calf. Even though it's tied off and been treated with our few meager supplies, it has to be agony for you."

His face shows a tiredness I've never seen before. He has a determined look, and for once, I listen to his intentions.

"Yeah," I respond.

He adjusts the machete and empty pistol on his belt,

"Wait," I say simply.

I pull the tomahawk off of my belt, its silvery blade dulled and the chips filled with my blood and the blood of the spirits. Walking over to a solid-looking tree a few feet from where we were admiring the view, I bring the blade hard against the tree, leaving it to Mother Nature to decide what to do with it.