I remember I was somewhere once, far away, alone. I heard a voice calling sadly and I answered. We found each other and were no longer alone in a dark night. I held my new friend tightly while she cried softly into my shoulder. Her tears warm and wet against my neck. Her hair matted with dirt and blood, held together with fear. As I held her, I hummed a melodious tune. She eventually calmed herself and me. For a short while we just looked at each other; embraced in the tight grip of abandonment. Both of us bloody, from someone elses blood, from the battle with the ones who tried to take us for whatever dark purpose. We were the only two left and I knew we would be the only two to get away. I always wondered why I never learned her name. I guess when trying to survive and not knowing whether one or both will die things like names just don’t matter. We did manage to clean our faces a little and she was beautiful though despite the mud and blood that caked the rest of her body. After a while we got up and made our way out of the quiet of our secret ravine. We saw so many we once knew; now no longer moving. There was nothing we could do but just stand there stunned at all the death. Yet, we moved on and on among our friends, our brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers; all too old for the trade. We were eventually found by friends; but we were separated, going different places. I never saw her again and I never learned her name. All I remember is her beautiful face wiped clean of mud and blood; each of us holding on to one another as if we were all that really matter. In those times of my life when I am in need of something strong to hold on, I conjure up this memory of a place and a girl I met long ago somewhere once, far away and I hum the tune that comforted us both in that dark night when death covered our naked skin like a scratchy wool blanket. I hope wherever she is, in what ever time she is in, she too remembers fondly our grasping clasp as only lovers in a hidden secret ravine can know.