I walk among the living, I walk among the wounded, I walk among the dying.

I walk among fellow dead.

I stop, to let a living pass me. She looks to my eyes, and moves on. A female of whom I would long to see many times, had my hearts not have been dulled to that.

I look, to the left are cots, wounded living, some complacent, to be alive and sane was to be in torment until the body was repaired, and the mind would remember all. One male of whom I would pity, had my mind not have been dulled to this. He is dying, a deep purple stain surrounded his chest in the once-white covers. He does not know me.

To the right, are more, but none catch the eyes of a Reaper.

I feel nothing.

One looks to me, eyes widening slightly at me. What is it? I think to myself. As if on cue, he softly shakes his head, gives me a smile, so I stand by his side, crouch down, and I listen.

And so he whispered out; "You are lucky." But I hear him more than he would ever think, for nothing is heard save for his whisper, the moment was not a second or two longer than it took for him to breath in, out and then speak. It would forever hang upon my dulled mind.

His three mandibles click, the last is gone, now laying among the dead thirteen leagues away. He looks away, down, then closes his eyes, never to open them again.

You are lucky. I think to myself. To him I said nothing, I did nothing.

I feel nothing.

I look up, into the eyes of that female, that female that now stood on the other side. She shakes her head at me. She looks down to the blue armour, stained colours of purple and green of the dead-eating foe.

I look into her eyes, she too widens her eyes, as if looking into the eyes of her Reaper. Beautiful slitted blue eyes meet the pale eyes of a Ghost.

What is it? I think to myself. She looks down again. To the eyes of her beloved.

I feel nothing.

My heart would have cried for her, as my orbs of vision would, had both not been changed to feel no weakness. She holds a hand to her belly, tears in her eyes as she places her other hand on his bloodied cheek.

But that moment was gone. I walk away, no longer the dead warrior's brother and his lover's freind from many years ago, but a Ghost, a shadow of a mission's desire. An emotionless automaton. I shall go into the vast unknown, I shall never return here.

I fear nothing.