The vista atop the hill is fine indeed. Not worth dying for, you think, but very few things in life are.
A gust of wind whips past the hunter's snow-blonde hair as you look at each other for the last time before breaking away.
"Tell me your name," you insist.
They lean in and give you a quick peck on the cheek.
"You'd never believe me," the stranger says, copper eyes shining.
And with nothing more than that, they head away. So casual is their stride you'd never have imagined the brawl that just transpired had you not experienced it.
You clear your throat as they trot into the cemetery. "A bit of digging before the night's done, eh?" you call after them. "I hear some of the best spots have been picked over already."
The hunter barks out a laugh or two and makes a rude gesture at you over their shoulder. You carry that image with you as you stumble your own way back towards the village lights and your bedroll.
On the Morrow