“I can’t be here.” The words are forced out in a strained whisper— barely audible over the sounds of clashing swords and battle cries.

Still, I hear her. Loud and clear, like we’re back in the garden we use to hide away in. The world was simpler when we were two strangers. Two _friends. _

__

The battlefield we stand on now is nothing like that garden. The dirt here is gray and dead, too stained with blood to sustain any life or love. It is not the rich, fertile brown we planted our seeds in.

I think the flowers should be blooming by now.

Her hand reaches out to mine, and I want nothing more then to take it, to hold it as I had many times before.

Instead, I take one step back. I pretend her hurt expression doesn’t bother me.

“You should have never come, General.”