Violent Paths Cross

Wanderer dragged forward

Ever onward past dry land

Through downy soft crystal fields

Stopping briefly for water

In the midst of a silent pasture

Stream burbling pleasantly

Some distance away

The Wanderer saw another

Dressed in garb

So far removed

As his was also

This one in wrapped layers

All but eyes hidden

The Wanderer himself

Dressed in crimson cape

With deep grey and black swirled rags

The Wanderer drew his blade

A humming biting thing

Which brought death swift

The Stranger drew his

Curves wicked and barbed

Its every facet to bring agony

The Stranger gave a guttural call

Challenge in tone

The Wanderer met it in kind

With swift leap the Wanderer landed

Across the lolling stream

Slowly they approached

Blades ready

A careful dance

Not too close

But ever closer

Until

The Stranger lashed out

Flecked with something muddy

Unseen from afar

The Wanderer dodged all

But one barb

Which sliced his arm

As he too swung

The edge cut azure blur

Clear through

A pause

Breath

The Stranger collapsed

Felled in two

Victory

Surely

But

The Wanderer felt a burn

Of something insidious

Crawling through his veins

He knew what this was

And spat on the body of his foe

For the honorless poison he used

He walked to the stream

Dipping in his toes

Laid down his blade

And laid back in the grass

The wind whispered

The grass murmuring

And in them a reminder

He will not be remembered

Nor the trials he faced

All that he accomplished

Was to feed this beauteous place