The land was pale and empty, and stank of the rotting corpses of the fallen soldiers. A figure approached the very heart of the blood crimson field; its long shadowy cloak and silky, long red hair was floating in the light breeze. Her bright coloured eyes scanned the bodies; a look of dismay washed over her smooth features. It was a waste, nothing but a waste.

Her heart sank at the sight of a single, red clad body lying among many other fallen. His eyes were closed, his face was dirty and his clothes were blood-stained. His sword lay inches from his hand, and it was enough evidence to show how Death had visited him. He was brave; a brave, brave lad- better than most people she knew. She pushed away a brown-haired man, and knelt beside the red-haired general. She pushed the hair away from his face, and tears formed at her eyes. He looked so peaceful- more peaceful than she had ever seen him. He was always fighting, or teaching to fight. It wasn't easy being the wife of the general that led armies to fight the King's soldiers.

But at least then Brick was alive.

She would never again watch his slender moves as he waved his sword through the air, or yell his army cries as he led his thousands of men to their death, or feel his warm breath on her skin when he returned to her, injured and wounded, but alive.

He had never given up, not he. He was born to bring peace to his people, no matter how many wounds and cuts he had received in his battles. He had always come back, back for her and their son, back to the loving family they were, back to their life- not as a fighter and army general, but as a father and a husband.

A tear formed at the corner of her eye, and when she blinked, the tear dripped out of her eye to her husband's face. Slowly, but miraculously, his eyes fluttered open, showing his red orbs. He looked tired and sleepy, but his eyes widened with happiness and surprise at the sight of his red-haired wife. He instantly got up and wrapped his arms around her neck, and she returned the embrace, sobbing onto his shoulders.

"Blossom, what is the matter?" His voice was just as gentle as she remembered, and the mere sound of it made her sob harder. He patted her back lovingly and hugged her tighter, whispering to her over and over again that he was there for her, that there was nothing wrong, that he loved her.

"Don't you ever leave me again, ever."