He had been riding. Riding hard, for several days. He had ridden without rest, without food, water or sleep. He had pushed his horse past what would have put a normal horse down. But his horse was not a normal horse, and his horse understood the urgency.

His mount ran, kilometer after kilometer, determined to bring the rider to his destination. Determined to fulfil the silent promise his rider had made. The Ranger horses were good about that, helping their riders keep those silent promises.

They tore down the worn roadway, rushing to return home. Rushing to reach the bend in the road that led to their meeting place. Ranger horse and rider in perfect sync, running on the wind toward home.

Will dismounted before Tug had come to a complete stop, running to keep from toppling under Tug's continued momentum. He was running late. It was obnoxious that he was late. He had never been late to see her before. She would be so disappointed in him.

He moved quickly through the trees, barely making a sound and leaving no sign of his passing. Years of training had removed that from his step, it was so light no one would have any idea he had come through. But they knew he had, it was that day, the anniversary, the day he went to see her.

His friends had long forgotten about coming with him, of offering to join him. He would see them later, after his visit with her. They knew that, and they were happy to wait. It was better if he went to see her alone. It would mean more if he was alone.

There was a small clearing several meters back from the road. There was no road to the clearing, no defined path, not even so much as a game trail running close to it. That had been why Will had chosen that particular clearing. So they would not be interrupted on their anniversary.

Sometimes I think about you, Will thought finding his way through the underbrush to the edge of the clearing. When I'm sitting alone in the silence, when I hear music playing. Usually when I stand in a crowded room and I am unable to think over all the noise. The forest had grown quiet around him. Like the animals were aware that it was the day of the visit, and wanted him to have peace. He was both thankful for that, and saddened. He would have preferred the sounds of the forest to surround him on the day of the visit.

He missed her. Everyone missed her. She was the kind of person that was hard not to miss. Her smile was warm and bright, her laughter contagious. She was smart, and kind. A friend to everyone.

Sometimes it hurts. It hurts to know that even though I'm thinking about you, you are incapable of wrapping your arms around me. Unable to offer support while I feel like I am dying inside.

Dusk was falling as he entered the clearing. The light filtering through the trees left pools of golden warmth around him. The leaves fluttered in the early summer breeze, reminding him of the day. It was always like this on their anniversary. Warm and bright, despite everything else.

Sometimes I think about you, he took a deep breath looking around the clearing. It looked like it always had, like a smaller version of the clearing at Redmont. I think of all the things we never got to do, of all the smiles and hours of laughter we missed. She had loved the clearing at Redmont, the simplistic beauty of it. They had been happy there, so happy. This clearing was perfect for the yearly visit, for the anniversary. For their anniversary.

It was perfect because it was almost like their home. It only needed a little cabin to be home. But this clearing did not need a cabin, their annual meeting did not need a cabin. It was just one day, only for an hour. There was no need for a cabin for just an hour once a year.

I think about how much things are changing while you're not by my side. Will drew the cowl of his cloak back, shaking out his greying hair as he prepared to continue forward. It was always like this, preparing himself to see her. His hair had been dark the year before, his face fuller and less wrinkled. But he still looked the same, and she still looked the same. Things might have changed, but they were still the same.

Sometimes I think about you. He took another breath before stepping into the clearing, moving forward to greet her. I miss the touch of your hand, the sound of your voice. All the times it was just the two of us. His light tread took him to the center of the clearing, passing through the pools of light. His cloak fluttered like the leaves dappling what remained of the warm summer daylight.

Will opened and closed his hand at his side. He was nervous, he was always nervous. Which was pathetic since he was a Ranger. He had trained to handle situations so much bigger, much more dangerous. He dealt with so many situations without so much as a moment's hesitation.

But this was her. It was her and he had always been nervous around her. It was another thing that had never changed about them. So much of his life had changed, but the way he felt around her was the same. It would always be the same.

Sometimes I think of you, even though it hurts. Will fell to his knees, staring at the ground in front of him. He stared at the wildflowers growing around him. He could see her smile then, looking at the flowers. He could see the sunlight falling on her golden hair. He could hear her laughter as he knelt there. He could feel her wrapping her arms around him one more time, long enough to last another year.

It's hard not to. Because when I'm alone or in a crowded space, I remember how much I needed you before. Will took a deep breath, feeling it catch in his throat as the wind blew around him. For a fleeting moment he could smell her too, the memory of it so strong he almost collapsed.

Then the pain grows, because I realize that I no longer need you. Will closed his eyes, leaning forward until his forehead pressed against the cool stone rising up in the middle of the clearing. And it makes me feel like I'm dying.

Will's hand found the top of the headstone, he held the marker tightly as if his life was dependant on that hold. He knelt there, remembering his wife on their anniversary, like he did every year. The pain erupted, fresh and horrible in his chest as he pressed his head against her grave marker.

"Sometimes, I think about you," he sobbed, a single tear slid down his cheek. "God, I miss you Alyss."