I feel the beating of your heart.

My Darling, my sweetheart,
I think of you every waking second of every cold bitten day.
I think of what you would say if you saw me now. Saw my socks, torn and soaked, my hands blackened with guilt.
The guilt which I cannot wash off, no matter how hard I try. They are entrenched with blood, blood of my enemies, the blood of my brothers.
My uniform, I have only one. I smile to your imagined remark. The smell I am accustomed, the feeling I accept.
Your touch on my face, warm hand on my cheek, its you who heats my nights, while all around is bleak, mud ridden and sludge.
These many paths with stairways to death.
Something always brings me back to you, even in the palms of hell...if only we had its heat.

I saw a man yesterday, merely a boy; walk over to the body of a dying lieutenant. He felt his pulse to make sure it was weak. Then with a deep breath, unburden him of his rations and boots, and walked away quietly sobbing.
I cried as I scolded myself: for thinking I shouldn’t have waited until he was dead.

Oh My beautiful girl, how I wish to be home. Out of this pit of decay, this endless sea of tyrants. I now know the true meaning of loneliness, with my back pressed up against my allies.
It’s strange the beauty of death. The once white snow now shamed red.
I too may become the earth. I hope I will nurture something beautiful, a great Oak, or maybe a flower. Or will I forever remain stained.
Please have faith my angel, its all I cling to now.
We have made some ground. Trodden over many souls.
Bullingen, not far now.
Never has a name meant so much, been spoken with such ambition.
We are both on this land of Gods, both under this sky of uncertainties.

Not long now my love, not long.
All that divides us is space.