“Your hands are shaking.”

Suho's hands were gittery. They shook almost as if he didnt have any control over them as he wiped them with his hankerchief. She didn't know what he was wiping for, there was nothing on his hands.

“It's fine.” He forced himself to lay his hands on his lap. “It will stop soon. I just need to calm down.”

The ride was silent as he tipped his head back onto the back of his seat closing his eyes in mediation. They were currently passing a stone bridge of a river covered in fallen dead leaves. A sign that fall would soon be over and that winter was coming. The air was crisp and breezy. She reached into her bag pulling out pencil and paper.

Dear Kai,

               I wish I could have stayed with you. I wish I hadn't left. I also wish I hadn't eavesdropped on a private conversation between father and son. Are you truly a warrior? Is that why you don't fear death or is it why you're so afraid to leave because if you leave you won't return only to perish on to heaven or...Hell.

               sincerely

               A friend, Atlass

“Who is that for?"

It seemed her Father had awoken from his peaceful nap.

“Kai.” She stated bluntly.

“He won't reply.”

“He will.” She said looking out the window whispering. “He promised.”

“You only knew each other for two days. It's not like you're leaving an old childhood friend.” He said positioning his hand behind his head.

“He was my only friend.”

“You didn't have friends growing up.”

“No. No one lived for miles and I was home schooled.”

It dawned on her that she had been deprived of a very important stage of life.

The carriage halted.

“What's going on?”

She was sick of this carriage breaking down. This was the second time.

“Don't worry. Because you were feeling down, I asked the driver to stop us at a favorite restaurant of mine.” He said hopping out. “You coming?” He raised an eyebrow.

Atlass looked towards the tiny town. The roads were paved of pebble. The small cottages were made out of stone as well. The women were carrying around fruits they picked and hay. The merchants were advertising by yelling out sells. The men walked their horses and helped their children. It reminded her of the small village her mother would take her to on rare occasions. Why would someone like her father enjoy coming here?

She nodded her head and followed him into a small cottage.The resturant was bust and noisy. It was crowded with drunk men and women. The owner instantly recognized father signaling for him to follow. He led them to an outside eating area. It was quieter with less costumers.

Some layed in the grass on blankets having picnics. Some sat at the table like them.The grass field held a large still lake in the background littered with leaves. The man gave them a plate of what looked like meat covered in mixed vegetables. It was basically slop that you would feed to pigs. I