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[Arahim]

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The sea was silent, and smooth. A black glass that stretched out further than his eyes could follow, touching the very edges of the world.

A light wind tugged playfully at his cloak, looking for a way in. Promising the chilly, familiar touch of Autumn.

Wrapping his arms around himself, Arahim stared at the nightsky. There was nothing like this in Sanctus. Malas seemed almost unnatural in comparison to Cove. Life did not seem to breath the same way in it's forests, and there was no sea.

Probably a thing that would seem unimportant to anyone else.

He had spent the last few days here. He fell into old routines that he had grown up with, but had never really been his. He helped his uncle get ready for the coming Winter, and spent his nights outdoors alone.

Clearly, he was running from something, but here was a place where he would not have to answer questions. There was a true solace in being allowed to just stay quiet and keep what he had in his head to himself.

He knew it could not last. He also knew this was the easy path.

As attractive, and simple as Cove was, and as simple as he often portrayed himself, he knew he could not stay. His head and heart would never reconcile here.

Arahim lay back, pulling his cloak tighter around him, and resting his head on his pack. His fire had died to embers and grey ash.

A thousand, thousand tiny silver flames pinpricked the night above him. Each noiselessly vying for his attention, while the sea whispered him to sleep.

He would go home tomorrow.