Scars
There was only one scar on the whole of his body. After all the battles, all the fights, there was still only one. It was a prominent scar -marking more than just his body- longer than her pinky finger and about as thick as the edge of a blade. Possibly made by a large arrow.
They say scars tell stories. His story was painful, heart breaking, gently and yet powerfully intertwining with her own. Tears were meant to be shed and laughter was meant to ring out at their tale. Tentatively, she pressed her long, slender finger against his only scar.
The one that lay right above his heart.
