Grief- A hole in the stomach and glass in the throat. Standing on top of the peak, wind whipping around him, he mourned, thinking of the people who had left him behind, allowing himself this one small weakness on this one day. Snow swirled, and a shiver ran down his back. Looking down, his eyes unerringly found the heap of stones that marked the grave. He shifted slightly where he stood, boots creaking softly, breath a great white cloud around him as he sighed. Blue eyes flickered and shut, and without another glance, he left his last friend behind.