As they looked upon the battlefield, and they saw the sight of that magnificent play. They walked that tightrope together. They had cast themselves straight into that danger, and Oliver had led them there, without a hint of guilt, trusting in the unity that they had. Trusting that, his intentions were their intentions, and that when his heart swelled with purpose and meaning, so did they.
The richness of the world, the strength of the ground beneath his feet, the coldness of the snow that had been melted from the warm blood that had been spilt upon it. The possibilities beyond his comprehension, where mind could not string together the path that one must take. Where it was simple meaning, and joy, in even the simplest of things.
