A pact.

A promise signed in blood and
sealed with a stolen kiss.
A line cut across palms and hearts
(sharp pain, sharper blade)
Silver knife flashes in moonlight.

Cold air, cold mud,
grass bent in westward winds.
Narrow roads cross,
meeting beneath well-worn boots and up heaved roots.
Strewn with dirt, strewn with stone,
now here in nowhere:
A choice.

"Yes."

Silver knife flashes.
Fates sealed with a curse.
Souls bound by contract as
honey colored blood drips down,
staining dirt stained many times before.
Brown and red mingle in dust,
an unholy yin and yang blurring, burning together.

Pain-blinded eyes see all:

Lights are born, burn, die, and fall, their names etched eternally in night-
Sleeping creatures that live in darkness, unthinking, unquestioning, ever dreaming-
Here, withered roots and withered flesh intertwine in the flames.

A scream.
(Mine or theirs?)

Stillness.
Sudden calm.
Alone on the road once more.
Faint chuckling behind the mind fades to nothing.
All that remains:
a hollow feeling and a brand across the chest
to serve as a reminder of what was lost and gained.

A pact has been made.