They stared after him, and watched him go.

Alexander sniffed, tears streaming down his cheeks. He looked up at the tall, greying wizard, silently pleading for comfort.

The old man knelt, letting his staff lean against the tree, and smiled kindly. He wrapped his arms lightly around the boy, who sobbed into his robes, and he patiently patted his back.

“There, there, little one,” he said, voice gentle and comforting. “It’s always a difficult moment, when they leave.”

The boy pulled back and wiped the snot from his face with his sleeve. He looked up at the wizard miserably.

“How do you handle it so well?” asked Alexander, voice breaking.

The old wizard looked at the boy with a small smile and told him, voice wise, soft, and assured, “One day you will learn.” He stood back up, and his face was serious and stony. “You simply must not get attached to any of them. Ever.”

The space between Alexander’s brows crinkled, as they often did when his mentor said things like this. “That sounds…wrong.”

The old man just raised his chin to gaze at the horizon, where the blue was beginning to turn to pink and gold. “Perhaps.”

There was a tug on his sleeve, and looked back at the child, who was looking at him earnestly, drying tear tracks still on his face.

“I won’t leave,” he said.

The old man put a hand on the child’s head, ruffling his brown hair slightly. Alexander beamed up at him. The man smiled down at him, and Alexander thought it was maybe somewhat fond, but didn’t respond as he looked back up at the sky.

The birds were singing a lonely melody.