Scars
Her hand traced his cheek. The discoloration was barely visible, but still there. She traced the thin line down to his jaw. He quirked a smile.
"Something interest you on my face I take it?"
"What is this from?"
She ran her fingertips across the scar once more. He took her hand away from his face, tracing the runic symbol – or rather, the scars, on the back of her palm. She cringed.
"What are these from?"
"You know from what," she hissed dangerously.
"Ah, then I take it you know," he tapped his cheek, "From what these are from."
His grip slackened as she pulled from him violently. Her hair whirled around her form as she turned to face the horizon. Moments passed until he broke from his stance to walk behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. She tensed visibly, then relaxed.
"Pasts are heavy burdens to bare."
"Indeed."
"These," he took her hand. "Are burdens, you should have never had to bare."
"…Perhaps…"
He squeezed her shoulders lovingly.
"Sometimes putting the past behind you is the best option. Put your best foot forward, and all that. May not be the best advice, but it's never failed me before."
He released his hold and walked away. She waited for his footsteps to fade from existence, then cracked a smile.
"Best foot forward, eh?" she traced her runic mark and sighed. "Why not? Worth a shot."
She ran after him, her foot falls lighter than they had ever been.