You fall in love all over the world.
You travel all the time, all over the place. There is love, there is attraction- how couldn't there be? You are scared and lonely, and everything is new; you yourself are new to these men. You are exotic, and you are very lovely. You can see it in all of their eyes, the eyes of these pretty boys who smile at you (scream at you cry for you). You are from far away, and they would keep you with them: the strange girl with her pretty blue eyes and pretty brown skin, so pretty (so strong so dazzling watch her shine) like a shard of ice. You blush and you dance and you fight (with them alongside them for them) all the boys, these pretty boys with roots sunk deep.
You try on identities for size, like some girls try on shoes, like some people try out battle strategies. I'll finish what I'm doing, you say, I'll save the world and then I'll come back here (to the farm to the orphanage to the factory the woods the city) and I will never wander again. You could put down roots, stake your tent in the soil of these warm foreign lands, become a wife. Someone's wife. Your children would have green eyes and burn in the sun. Your kids would have finely carved dolls and shaggy hair and calluses and learn songs from their friends that you have never heard before. You would learn stillness, history. And your husband would learn nothing at all.
You walk away from every man, every pretty, angry boy. You think, not yet, it's too soon. You have a world to save. You cannot give your heart away, (not to one boy, not to a hundred boys) you need it for the fight. You need it for yourself. This is a life lived on ice, a girl raised amidst the ocean swell: motion is life is freedom is hope. To stand still is to freeze forever. You tell yourself one day you will come back to one of these pretty boys that gave you their own hearts and settle down with him and learn to farm (carve dance paint rule a country) but you know that maybe you never will. The only hand you take (are taking, will ever take) is the one that will pull you over the horizon.
There is life without love, as ordered as the crystal lattice of a snowflake, and every day is new.