In the hours that passed, the young man, eventually, overcame himself, and drove himself to move. He had nothing to work with, no shovels to dig, not that it would matter, since he was surrounded by stones. In the end, he decided it would be best if he placed the old man on the side of the stone walls, wrapped up in his blankets. He stood over him, one last time, and whispered his goodbyes, as the solomn statues remained there for the whole day with him, and, finally, after more anguish and hate, the young man grabbed the cart handles, and walked on, ignoring the statues all around him, caught in his trap of anguish and despair. The night fared no better, as he realized how alone he was now, and sleep did not come easy as he passed through more bouts and fits of crying. He never realized it before, but that old man was all he ever had. And now he was gone. --------------------------- Morning came once more, as the young man woke up to the soft rays of light across his face. His eyes opened once more, to the empty corner of the wagon. He rose from his blankets, and slid up to the front of the wagon, hanging his legs over onto the stony earth. There were no statues out front today. He hung his head in his hands as he sat there in silence. And as his eyes traveled about, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something. He turned his head to look, and found the soldier, standing beside the wagon. In one arm he held a great shield at his side, and in the other, he held his sword up proudly, a challenge to any and all that may wish to cause harm. Turning his head to the other side, he saw the woman, crouched low beside the cart, with a great stone bow held in her hands, drawn back, waiting for anything. And, like another wave of anguish, the realization of it all swept over him. The last words in the night. The statues were here for him. They were never here for the old man. They came to comfort him and say their farewells. But above it all, they knew. And they were here all along for his sake. And the old man knew it too. His last words and breaths were spent, letting him know that how ever much he felt alone, there was always somebody at his side, watching him, protecting him from unseen threats, and traveling with him on his journey. He laughed at it all suddenly, and looked up to the hundreds of statues that lined the walls of this place. He was alone now. The one man who he had ever looked up to, ever been taught from, and who had always been there with a smile on his features, was gone. And the road before him was uncertain. It would always be uncertain. He was, utterly alone now. But that did not mean this journey had to be done [i]alone.[/i] For these statues, whatever they were, would guide him to the end of his road, and they would all watch over him. They would never ask for repayment, and never speak to him. But always, they were there. -------------------------------- And, regardless of the road ahead, the young man pressed on. And, as he finally found the end of this great stone passage, to safer lands, he stepped back into the world alone. But, from on high, the stone warriors watched his departure, their weapons drawn for any threat. And, sitting beside them, was a short little statue of an old man, with a welcoming, warm smile etched across his face.