The River Pt. 2

The grey sludge began to seep into the grass
as the two grew closer to their destination
their boots sinking with each step
as the green and beautiful trees
gave way to the expansive gray wastes

All left to remind them of where they came
a few scattered dying things
ghosts of plants that once thrived
now marking their deathbeds like gravestones
and still the eyes peered out from the distance

The sounds would come at night
and lie awake clutching their weapons they would
some nasty, terrible hiss one night
followed by a terrible cry another
but still they would wake the next morn and walk

Too late to turn around
the food, short in supply in these gray lands
and rations running thin
water, too, hard to find
as the black liquid began to flood their minds

His companion
a little more ill each passing day
his wound not healing the way a normal one should
his face looking gray
yet his spirit stayed bright

Wincing here and there from pain
but determined to grin a time and again
the young man taking heart
knowing their time on this plane
a temporal thing

Mere mummies, they seem
the walking dead in a cemetery world
remembering faintly the day they set off
brightly shining knights in armor brilliant
now broken and strapped about for function, not form

A path marked by violence more than hoped
footsteps laden with blood marks
yet the hero's welcome comes at a price
and much they have given
is their own

The young man's thoughts
adrift back home with each step
the maiden he left
the sad goodbyes
but for peace, much must be given

Running a hand through his hair
he unfurls his pack upon a dry piece of ground
one of the last he's seen in many a stride
their final goal is just ahead
perhaps the journey may end. Tomorrow.