Brutus looked up, tears running down his face, he nodded in understanding. He held her close until she breathed her last. The soldier closed her lids and wept bitterly. His tears ran down the cut on his face from the sword as he held her lifeless body in his arms. Killgore, the bitter soldier, known for his hatred, kissed her cold lips once more, then wrapped her body in the blanket that they had shared. He found a piece of parchment paper and began to write,

'To Whom It May Concern,
Here, on this ground, two sworn enemies laid down their arms for a greater good. Here, a man and a woman bound by blood to hate, found love. I held her until she died. I held her in my arms until her dying breath. For a few brief moments I knew what it truly meant to be in love, and it was greater than any victory or any glory. For I now know that love conquers even death. I write this today as a plea to all of our warring nations. We found the greatest happiness was in each other's arms. Love is our greatest ally. For without love, there can be no peace, there can be no happiness, but most of all, without love, there can be no hope.
To My Dearest Dawn...'


The soldier sighed softly and looked down at the young traveler. He walked to the fire and kicked the logs around the shelter, soon it caught ablaze. Killgore picked up his rifle and walked out of the exit, kneeling just outside, watching his impromptu funeral pyre light up the dark sky. Tears streaked his face, freezing to his peach skin. As the fire turned to ashes the soldier stood and made his decision to try and find his way out of the tundra, to return home again, to share his love and new-found ideals with the world. Perhaps even to end the war. He marched South, the smoke from the Pyre could be seen for miles, every time he looked over his shoulder, watching it get further and further away.

Hours and countless footsteps passed. The soldier was growing weary, he saw haunting visions of the departed traveler, thoughts that he himself had dealt to her a killing blow. Guilt washed over him life a wave of hatred. He cursed himself and his own twisted visions of justice. As he fumed, the snow storm rolled back again. As the flakes stung his face like needles, the soldier balled his fists, angry over his lack of trust. He pressed himself to reach safety, as that would be his redemption, spreading his story. The soldier pressed himself harder, every breath becoming a labor of love and passion.

Brutus stumbled in the snow and fell with a terrible snapping noise, his foot twisted at a terrible angle. The soldier did his best to carry on, reciting what he had written at the end of his letter, "To My dearest Dawn, I knew you for mere hours. But the lessons learned I will carry with me for the rest of my life, however brief it may be. Perhaps someday we will meet again. I have known no greater joy than when you finally told me that you loved me. I am leaving this letter net to your body so that others may learn from our mistakes, and our triumphs." Brutus fell again, his heart growing weak. He coughed and wheezed, the snow swirling around him. He stood again, crying out in agony, but moving forward. "...Dawn...I never said it back but..." The young soldier fell for the last time, his face in the snow, his vision slowly fading away, he managed to get himself to all fours. Killgore coughed heavily, his lungs complete ice. Blood dripped from his mouth and stuck in his throat. "...D-dawn...I-love you too..." He rolled onto his back, eyes towards the heavens, with his dying breath, "I'm so sorry... Goodb-"

The wind stole away whatever was left in the soldier's lungs. But before he did, he felt the warm loving embrace of his Dawn once more, he clung to the moment for as long as he could before the world went black once and for all. Brutus expired on that very spot, perhaps looking alone, but knowing in his heart he would never have to be again. His body, would never be found, the letter professing his love would deteriorate along with his flesh, never to see the light of day. Snow slowly covered the soldier's broken body, insuring him an icy solitude, and leaving no trace of his existence. Nothing would be left of the two lovers, only ashes and a frozen body, buried under countless feet of snow.