Buck stood at the foot of the grave. His face dry of the tears that had haunted him for the past weeks. He dropped to the ground, lying streched out beside it, his hand caressing the mound of dirt almost lovingly, as though if he did it long enough she would return. He closed his eyes, letting his mind drift back for the first time since it happened. The pain growing more intense with each passing second. His soul seemed to open up in that moment, the waters of disturbance flowing over him visibly as he shook. It was as though the very core of himself were resurfacing, evidence of the supressed emotions he had not dared release. The images flashing through his mind, as much a part of him as the once-cursed Kiowa blood that ran through his veins. He lay there... remembering...
She sat on the steps of the house watching for his arrival. A lifetime awaited him as he dismounted. The reward for actions he did not recall doing to deserve such a love. He smiled softly at her taking only a few steps foreward. There had to be some way to show her his love. Mere words would not prove the depth of his feelings. She rose and moved closer, the distance between them disappearing. He slipped his arms around her tiny waist and pulled her close lifting her from the ground.
Her name came to his lips as naturally as any had ever. "Frelse. I've missed you." She only grinned playfully, her ever-silent mouth touching his chin in her customary greeting. Frelse disentangled herself from his grasp gently and turned toward the house gesturing him to follow her.
Night began to fall, Buck still did not leave the grave, moving only to curl up into a fetal position as the vision left him. Why was he alone again? His mind screamed in the silence of the night that surrounded him. He noticed how quiet it was, not even the slightest sound from a stray cricket. It was as though they too were occupied with their own thoughts. He moved again, this time touching the smooth, cool headstone. His forehead coming to rest against the hard surface.
A drop of rain began to fall, making no sound on the ground. He lifted his eyes to the sky as the cleansing wetness poured harder, though still silent. Another shift of his position brought him to lie spread eagle on the ground, one hand barely touching the headstone now.
A bolt of lightening leapt across the sky, directly into his body. The blinding pain filled him. Searing heat through his entire body, scorching as it burned him. A scream ripped from his lips as he felt the lightening strike, torching him. The flash was gone almost as quickly as it had come, the storm with it. Buck sat straight up and stared wild-eyed around himself. Had it really happened? Or was it the imagination of a grief-stricken man making the pain tangible. The ground was wet, his clothes soaked. He cradled a hurting arm to his chest instinctively before realizing it.
He pulled the hand away and looked at it. Blood. He was bleeding. Just a trickle. He stared for a moment at the blood before hearing a chuckle. A gentle sound, amused almost. He glanced around for the source of the distinctly masculine sound before hearing it again and realizing it had come from himself. Buck laughed again, louder this time. He giggled, touching the bloody hand. He was alive. More than that and inexplicable joy filled him. He was happy to be alive. A deep rumble from the bottom of his belly rolled through his slender frame erupting from his mouth in a sound that eminated through the night. He rose and grinned up at the sky finally understanding.
He began to spin, around and around faster and faster. He could move, he was alive. He smiled to the grave and nodded, a message from beyond understood. From his love, a woman named Salvation.
