Love. Not the kind you see in the movies or hear about on the radio. The real kind. The kind that gets beaten down and bloody, yet perseveres. The kind that hopes even when hope seems foolish. The kind that can forgive. The kind that believes in healing. The kind that can sit in silence and feel renewed. The real kind of love. It's rare and we have it...
How did you kill the Ashman in the forest last year?β βI shot him with an arrow.β βWhat kind of arrow?β βA sharp one.β Nate rolled his eyes. βReally, dude? A sharp one?
Before he knew he was immortal. Before life was no longer fragile. Those were the days when life truly meant something. When life was hard but worthwile, and love was valuable because your days were numbered. That was living.
