Every step the pop of my joints echoed throughout the valley. The water was silent, so were the trees. Not even the wind could be heard here. The only sounds were my breathing and his horse’s feet sloshing in the wet. I had yet to get a good look at my companion; his face was tense and cold, the same as his hand which was only extended to me once. Even upon our departure he stayed numb and quite, that same furrowed brow, dull eyes, and persistent scowl. Although, despite his paradigm of frigid behavior, he was warm to me.

Many times I had asked him where we were going, why he gets a horse, what are we looking for, but he never answered. He would only slow down when I did, he only stopped when I fell; I had fallen quite a bit. My shoes were long gone up the river; I had slipped too many times to keep them on, yet they were quite hard to let go of. I don’t remember taking them off, but I do remember the salt that ran down my face when they were gone. They were my favorite pair and yet I can’t remember what they looked like.

For a while he held my hand. His were quite big; they were large enough to engulf my own. His tan skin was in contrast with the pale steed. A bit of my crying was because of that horrible squish in the mud,gunky, warm, and too soft. Still he never let me on the horse.

Somehow the fog never traveled into the river; it seemed to stay fenced into the tree line. In fact, everything surrounding us was quite uniform, beautiful, but too perfect. I was really the only thing out of place. Even my companion was clean and rigid; next to him I was a wet dog. Surely if I had a mirror I would cry again at how messy I was.

As more time passed, I seemed to forget more and more of how I got here, and what my shoes looked like. I started to cry again as I looked behind us. The dewy aroma had done little to calm my forming sobs. Tailing us was nothing but a wall of fog and fading shadows. I hadn’t even realized my steps faulted, but my companion had. He hauled his horse, not to grab me to drag along, but to wait until I was prepared again.

“I want to go back,” I choked out, looking at him, fully for the first time. For a moment he was still.

“There’s nothing for you to go back to,” he reproved gently.

“I want to remember what was back there.” My knees buckled before I dropped down into the cool river. “I don’t want to keep going I just want to go back!” My ears rang with my own cries echoing the valley. Beyond the foggy barricade, the pattering of my old life washed my memory down the river.

I wasn’t sure how long I sat and cried, but after a while I forgot what I was crying for and we kept moving. When I got up this time, his warm hands held my own shaky one steady; continuing down the river.

Whispers crawled out of the trees, not quite reaching my ears. Though I couldn’t hear what they were fully saying, the echo made my stomach twist. The voices felt familiar but I couldn’t place a name or face to the sound. After my break, I kept silent like my companion, though my breathing was far more strained; he had a horse to carry him, yet I had to trudge though the rising wade.

For a long while I felt nothing except the heat from his hand, and it was not until the salty wet filled my nose that I realized how deep we had gotten. This time I did not cry, though I may have wanted to but his warmth kept me walking; although I would swimming at this point.

This far downstream, it did not echo. The once clear, calm waters had begun to foam and rock violently, yet he somehow remained above the waves whilst I drowned. It was not until I lost his hand that I began to tear up again. With out my guide to hold me, I thrashed around in the rapids.

Eventually I stopped. My companion now stood beside me, for the first time off of his horse. I was sat in a calm stream now, the dangerous waves could be heard behind me but now I had no desire to turn around. He offered me his hand once again, and this time when he looked at me there was no coldness. Even his eyes, before dark and cloudy, were now a golden hue. His lips twitched just a tad, though no teeth were shown, and he almost bent downward as to not completely dwarf me with his tremendous height. His hair was much darker than his pale horse’s, and his skin seemed even tanner against his alabaster robes. I took a moment just to look at him closely, his warmth, his stature, even his figure. Finally taking his hand, his other came to direct me to our front. There overlooking us, a majestic, commanding individual awaited on his pale stallion. He resembled my companion, and though he had a far more imposing and mysterious aura to him, there was was calm that washed over me the moment my eyes met his. All the tears I had shed before were disregarded. My companion helped me to my feet a final time, a careful hand placed on my spine as we walked towards the figure; now directly next to him I tilted my eyes up. He smiled then, and I knew I wouldn’t need to cry anymore.