The twigs and leaves cracked and rustled beneath her feet. She ran wildly between the thick trees, the layers of branches, ducking and clambering through. Her feet were bare but she did not seem to mind. Her long dark hair waved behind her, tapping her back playfully everytime she took a fresh step forward. The skirt of her simple white summer dress fluttered around her bare knees. She was laughing uncontrollably, turning around every few moments to check he was still there. He chased after her, loosing her occasionally in the mass of green and brown. But they had known the forest their whole lives; it was like an old friend. Once again he caught the sight of her white dress and took chase. Beneath his booted feet the crackling was louder, dangerous and warning. But they were both still laughing.

Finally he caught her tiny wrist tightly in his hand, forcing her to swing round and face him. The last of their smiles faded as each stared at the other. She was thoughtfully admiring his eyes, as she had done so many times before. The left was blue, a bright sparkling blue, and the right was brown, a deep chocolate brown. She was wondering when she would next see those eyes. She was wondering when she would next be able to admire them. But most of all, she was worrying she would never see them again. She reached up and ran her hand along his face, from the tip of his blonde hair to the bottom of his chin, stroking his cheek. His face was hot, a sheen was sweat visible on his forehead, but she thought he looked more handsome than ever.

He caught her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers, before taking it tightly in his own, and leading her out of the trees. He sighed as the sky opened up to them, a clear blue ceiling rather than the constricting, confusing mass of craggy branches. The summer had been hot, almost too hot to bear, but they had spent every day of it outside, behaving as though they were still the irresponsible, irksome children of years earlier. Because there wasn’t much time left to be children. Not now that he had joined up. Soon, too soon contemplate, they would have to grow up and be responsible. There was no more time for running wild, there would be no more opportunities for laughing uncontrollably, they would not be able to play any more. He squeezed her hand at the thought, as though checking she was still there.

She had fallen silent, looking out at the sea, which spread endlessly into to distance on their right. She followed him without comment to the edge of the cliff, revelling in the feeling of the soft, moist grass beneath her bare feet, pressing her toes into it with a smile. With her free hand she reached back and pulled on the end of her dark locks, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. He glanced back at her and smiled, enjoying her innocent posture and satisfied smile. With a sigh he turned back to the sight of the sea.

“You shall be home soon,” she said. It was as if she had spoken the exact words on his mind. He glanced at her again and smiled.

“I hope so,” he said sadly. She ignored the tone and leant her head on his shoulder. She hoped so too. Because beyond the calm horizon they were now staring at, there were others who, just like him, hoped to return home, and others who would never return home. In silent agreement they turned away from the sea and slowly began walking back to the house. Behind them she could hear the lazy, leisurely tide pushing into bay at the bottom on the cliff they stood upon. Its whispered arrival and departure was so familiar; she was certain the sea’s sigh could be heard in every one of her memories. And soon each wave, each crash, each whisper of the ocean, would bring a message from the battlefield, from his battle.

She looked at him as they walked back. He was wearing the crisp brown army uniform, holding his hat lazily in his hand. It had arrived that morning. His mother had carried it out to the patio, her face severe and emotionless. But she had seen her eyes. Furiously holding back tears, she had placed the neatly folded uniform on the table, and for a moment they had all just stared at it. Eventually he had stood up, picked it up, and disappeared into the house. She and his mother had stared at his retreating back. Neither had said a word. His mother had released a ragged sigh. It was a few moments before she said:

“He’s scared.” She had bit back the urge to reply that of course he was scared. He was going to war. After a pause his mother had continued. “He will not say so. But I can see it in his eyes. It’s like watching a part of me be killed. And what pains me more is that hundreds of mothers, all over the country, are hurting as much as I am.”

He caught her looking at him and stopped walking. She jumped into his arms and squeezed him so tight he had to remind himself to breathe. The muffled sound of her crying only made him hold her tighter. Until now there had been no tears. Now, he thought, it was now that their childhood ended. There was no comfort he could give. All he could do was hold her. Gently she pulled away from him and looked up at those eyes. One brown and one blue. She would not ask him to promise – no promises of being careful, or returning safely. She said nothing as he wiped away one of her stray tears.

“Think of me,” she whispered. He smiled.

“Always.”