Disclaimer: No one and nothing. Still.


The cemetery was still in the dark of night. Just the way he preferred it. No one bothering him – well, in as much as one could term what they did bothering him. Most of his brethren left him alone and let him be in his quiet, contemplative state. He spoke when he needed to, when he felt he had something to add to the discussion – which was infrequently. He'd learned long ago that these Romans did not value his opinion, nor did they heed his words.

Blinking slowly, Tristan looked around him. From his crouched position near the top of the cemetery hill, he could see every grave. Sadly, he knew far too many of the sword-markers by their outline alone; did not need the harsh light of day to tell him which brother lay where and next to whom. He'd been there when they'd been laid down, pitched in and dug many the final resting nook of a dear companion gone far too soon. With each one, Rome had assumed they'd broken him a bit more, made him and his life harder. Oh how wrong they had been. Each one had set a bit more of Tristan free…knowing within that it was one less brother wearing the shackles of Roman duty. Just as he would be one day: free, either through death or official release.

Glancing over his shoulder, he knew she was there. Though he'd set her free the previous morn, he knew if he held his arm out, she would be there in an instant. It was a familiar perch, built through years of patience – for both of them, if Tristan were completely honest. He found her presence as soothing and she seemed to find his. Many times, she'd been the only soul that understood him, accepted him and, on occasion, was the only one brave enough to defy him.

Rising gracefully, Tristan threaded his way through the mounds, patting various hilts and reverently stroking some blades as he passed – whispering soundless words through barely moving lips. He would have asked their understanding, their pardon…but he knew there was nothing for them to understand, nothing that needed pardoning for they saw and understood all. His living brethren would be far more difficult, would handle his non-explanation far worse.

Smiling briefly, Tristan whistled and held his arm out, hearing the soft rush and feeling the light weight settle on his wrist. She nudged at his thumb with her beak as if to say "I've been waiting – what took you so long?" as he gently stroked her breast and turned his gaze to the stars.