It was February, and integrity had long ago fallen with the leaves. This clearing was forgotten, for it had not felt the steps of a heavy heart in many years. But today that would change, and the forest could feel them coming.
Although the forest knew they would come, it was simply a coincidence that they would arrive on the same day. They were not spectacular, or even particularly good, but they both had the same intentions.

She stumbled into the clearing first


She didn't know how long she had walked to get here, but she was amazed by how right it felt to have arrived. She knelt down into the dead grass, letting it scrape across her fingertips, all while thinking of where to go from here. The path did not carry on any further, but she knew that if she rested there long enough she would find her way. So there she sat, humming a tune she couldn't remember learning, when the first rustling of leaves found her ears. She had been in many forests, and on her journey she had encountered the footsteps of many cautious deer, the trampling of frightened rabbits, and even the silent tread of hunters. But what she heard now, were footsteps she never thought she would find:

they sounded like her own

Before she could be seen, she ducked behind a fallen tree and peeked over the top. Watching and waiting, the anticipation was enough to swallow her whole. But just as she nearly gave up, there was a break in the foliage, and it led to him. She was not sure what she expected, but it was most definitely not him. Maybe she thought he would be scary, or even another animal, but he was just a boy. He was built of simplicity and marble, all smooth surface and a calming stillness. He was surrounded by the grace of God but his eyes spoke of Hell. They burned like hell too, and she felt it when he instantly spotted her. She was frozen, for she did not know what else to do, but her wild eyes were already telling stories of where she had been— they whispered the desire to be wanted, but more importantly they screamed the demand to be understood. They were both hesitant, but he broke the silence first.

"I won't hurt you. Come out from behind the tree."
So out she came, but she did not speak.

"What's your name?"
This took her by surprise since she had not said her name in a very, very long time.

"I don't know," she stammered.
This brought a slight smile to his face, and although it did not reach his eyes, it transformed him. With a corner of his mouth lifted, he was holding the weight of the world.

"That's okay, I didn't know mine either. But I do know how you can figure it out." So he rummaged in his pocket, pulling out small, strange objects, until finally he unveiled a skinny paint brush. Slowly he walked towards her, and holding out the paint brush he said,
"Here, take it. You can write in the dirt."
She was baffled when she said, "Well, what do I write?"
There was the smile again, taunting her ignorance but also promising clarity.

"That doesn't matter yet. Just close your eyes and scrawl in the dirt."
She did not know why, but the amount of trust she felt for him was unfathomable. So without peeking, she closed her eyes and she felt her fingers move. It was as if her fingers were meant to spill over the top, uncovering the name that had followed her for all of her life, and now after. It was a familiar friend giving her a warm hug, a blanket wrapping around her, finally coaxing her identity to the surface.  It was over as soon as it began, and she opened her eyes to look at the bold lines in the dirt. The letters showed no sign of hesitation or fear; only strength and hardness. There lay the word, etched into more than just the Earth.

WAR

"What does it mean?" She whispered to the boy, but when she looked up at him she saw only astonishment. He smiled again, however this time it fully reached his eyes. When he looked away from her name and into her, he felt as if he had known her name from the very beginning.

"It means you have a beautiful violence about you." In those words there were a million meanings, things that would never be spoken aloud, but that was alright, because she understood. Her smile was bright, and it was then that she realized she had not yet learned his name.

"What's your name?"
His smile faltered as he spoke.
"Silence"
It was obvious that he resented this title, but she could not understand why.
"It's lovely, you are the calm before the storm," she said.

Before he could say anything the ground began to shake, and in front of them the trees trembled and cracked until two paths had appeared. It was very obvious that one was made for destruction and the other was made for peace. Silence did not dare look at War, for he knew he had to follow his path without looking back. But War did not care, and she stared into his soul. When he did not look at her she began to weep, because she did not care about the paths. She was War and she was destruction, she would create a path wherever she went. He was Silence and he was acceptance, but he could only make a path when he dared to make a sound. She knew what he would say next, but she would not let him get that far.

"Don't leave," she said.
This time when he tried to smile, it was only a sad grimace. He must have felt his lips revealing too much, so instead he spoke.
"Our paths are different, you must understand that we are not the same."
She was no longer scared of him, because she felt the rightness of their unity. She knew that she had to keep him. He felt finality in the paths but she felt finality in the one path that led them there— the path they had both traveled.

"What brought you to the path that led here?" She asked him.
His eyes went dark, but he found humor in the question. He walked towards the first path, and he looked far down it, although he couldn't see where it began. He turned back to War and he said,
"A rope necklace showed me the way. How about you?"
And in that instant, she knew she was right.
"I took a ten story leap, and I landed here."
He did not speak after that, but he was named Silence for a reason. He did not need to speak.
"Stay," she whispered in the light of dusk.


His quiet decision spoke for itself, when both of their paths grew back together, to form the forest walls that they could call their home.