4. Grave
There had come a time (deep within the hell and heartbreak of the war, with no end in sight and no way of even trying to escape from the stench of death) when the strange thing between them had lost its purpose and its heat, when she had one night leant into him and felt no joy or elation or hungry quickening only, still, the weariness in her bones and a sense of fitting. She had tucked her face deep into his breastbone, past the reek of fire and flesh, and let him cling to her as he wept silent and waterless sobs. Even our sorrows are affected by this drought, she thought, and wished to herself, with all the little hope that lay dying in her, that the world could twist itself back to wholeness, some day.