The smell of ash fills my nose. The smell of long burnt wood stands out in vast contrast to the bright green of the forest around me. The slight breeze that is rustling the tree brings the smell on stronger. Making my way towards the smell I come to a clearing. Black mars the ground and with every step a cloud of ash rises. Scattered around are the remains of houses, some in better condition than others. I can still where there were once paths, though the forest has begun to take over. Small plants springing to life amongst the blackened ground. I turn as Varis stops at one of houses. His tall lanky frame sways in the breeze. He remains staring at the remains of a house for what feels like an eternity. He takes a few steps forward before he drops to his knees, his slivery hair falling forward as he stretches out his hands toward the ground. Where his hands meet the earth a small ring of marigolds begins to bloom. As I watch his body begins to shake. Anger rises in me as I see tears begin to fall. His grief is like a knife in my chest. The memories come crashing back, unbidden as I stare at my closest friend.

Being awoken by the smoke all consuming, making it hard to breathe and see where I am going. The loud clash of weapons filling the night air, as I run through the burning town to find his house. Violently running into the door to open it, flames and smoke billowing from the opening. The small figure of my friend covered in blood, a knife at his feet and three bodies littering the space around him. I recognise two of them as his parent and the other is slumped before him. His gaze fixed on his hands covered in blood. Pulling his small shaking body out into the street and running into the dark forbidding forest.

I shake my head to clear it of the memories as I clench my fists at my side, my nails digging into my palms. Those who did this need to pay. I begin to wander trying to calm the anger growing within me. I can still picture the village as it was ten years ago. The streets while not full were always busy with the locals and those traveling through the area. Carts and horses, yelling and bargaining, the children playing and laughing. The silence now is eerie, like the silence in a cemetery, no one dare makes a sound out of respect for the dead. I throw my head back glancing at the sky, sadness now mixing with my anger. As I fight back tears, I begin to turn back to wear Varis was, determined to be a support to my friend. Our shared loses in this place, our connection to home. Each year we visit here, each year I feel more hopeless as I struggle to find those responsible and hold them accountable. Every time I think I find the right path it disappears like smoke in the wind.

As I reach Varis’s side once again, I notice that the tears have stop but his gaze is focused on the ring of marigolds. I reach out and place my hand on his shoulder and he turns to look at me. His piercing blue and gold eyes, now red rimmed, lock with mine. Without a word we understand each other, as we always have, his eyes telling me not to leave him alone. I pull him up into a hug and squeeze him tight, my head resting against his chest and his head falling against mine, his arms wrapping their way round me pulling me as close as he physically can.

After a time, Varis slowly pulls himself away, stepping back slightly. He looks drained, his skin turned a pale, sickly white, his cheeks flushed and tear stained, his long silver hair blowing in the slight breeze. I reach up to wipe a tear from his cheek and tucking a fly away piece of hair behind his pointed ear.