Tall trees lined up along the road in orderly rows. Silent, ancient sentries observing the all who passed between them. Sunlight streamed through the leaves casting a dancing play of light and shadow moving in time with the gentle summer breeze.

Ezra halted his horse, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, a feeling of hope rising in his chest. He tamped down on it ruthlessly. The trees being intact meant nothing. It was a good sign to be sure, but it didn't guarantee that the place Ezra had spent four years holding dear in his heart was as sound as the trees guarding the road.

Taking a deep breath, Ezra gently heeled his mount forward. He knew the trees would open up slowly, making a graceful entry to the manor house. They were planted years ago with the intent of framing the front portico, drawing the eye to the door. Elegant columns would hold up a porch roof, creating afternoon shade to rest in.

Ezra's jaw tightened, and he forced himself to remain upright in the saddle, as he cleared the trees and came in sight of what he'd feared all along. The beautiful manor house was no more than a burned out skeleton, a ruin of its once stately beauty. He swallowed hard as eyes bright with unshed tears studied the devastation.

He'd loved this place with all the passion a young man was capable of. It was the one place he remembered feeling welcomed, comfortable, honestly content. No matter where he'd been dropped of by Maude it was this place he thought of as home. In his mind, it was as permanent and immutable as the trees he'd just past.

Ezra's lips twisted in a bitter smile. Before him was a grim reminder that what the mind held sacred the harsh reality of war seldom regarded as sacrosanct. Suddenly feeling far older than his chronological age, Ezra dismounted.

He looped the reins loosely wrought iron ring imbedded in a marble pillar erected for just that purpose and miraculously undamaged. With heavy legs, Ezra ascended the stairs. He took a shaky breath and let it out slowly before he entered through the doorway no longer secured by heavy oak doors but simply a gapping maw open to any and all.

Ezra sighed heavily as he made note of the shattered chandelier that used to light the foyer. The mahogany floor was covered in ash and burn marks, as were the walls that were once draped with silk. The hand woven rugs that had graced the floor were evident now only because the heat of their destruction indelibly marred the floor. The grand staircase no longer lead anywhere at all, having collapsed to lie awkwardly on the first floor.

Ezra shook his head. He hadn't needed to breech the threshold to confirm what he already knew. He'd seen enough houses violated and destroyed as he'd made his way to this spot that he knew long before he'd even started down the tree lined path what he would likely find.

With a ruthlessness his mother would have found praiseworthy Ezra reminded himself that hope was a fools bet. He should have known better. Should have left the place as intact in his mind, and not bothered to confront the reality.

He stepped through the first floor, making his way to the back of the house. The small room off the kitchen had been his off and on for years. Although the furniture was broken, and the windows shattered, the rest of the room was amazingly more or less still intact.

Ezra found himself smiling as he glanced around a room that had once seemed so large when he was a child. He'd been just as astounded by the transformation when he'd last been here. And his last visit was part of the reason for his current one.

Moving toward the back wall, Ezra deftly found the loose brick that no one had ever gotten around to fixing. He removed it from the wall and retrieved what had lain hidden for more than four years, a small leather pouch that barely filled the palm of his left hand. He hefted it out of long habit, judging the weight and contents by feel alone.

Ezra opened the pouch and shook out the contents into his right hand. Several gold pieces, and a bit of silver, were more than enough to cover a fresh start somewhere else. More than enough to leave behind the ravages of war and begin anew out west.

He pursed his lips and tipped his head in silent respect to the lord of the manor who'd wisely cautioned Ezra as a child that it was always a good idea to have resources in reserve to draw on when needed. Of all the free advice Ezra had received over the years, it was that little bit of wisdom that had proved to be the most valuable.

With a shaking hand Ezra withdrew from the coins something he hadn't placed within the pouch. He shuddered as he recognized the square cut ruby ring. The last time he'd seen it, the ring had graced the hand of the lord of the manor, a gift from grandfather to father to son.

He had no real claim to such a family heirloom. Not a legitimate one. Although the old man had laughingly told Ezra he was more of a son to him than his own flesh and blood had ever been.

With a trembling fingers, Ezra carefully pulled the ring free and placed it on his ring finger, somewhat surprised to find it fit as though made for him. Nodding to himself, he returned the coins to the pouch, and the pouch disappeared into a hidden pocket inside his boot.

There was nothing else to be had here. Nothing to be gained by staying. He wished things had been different, but he had wizened a long time ago to the futility of wishing. Things were what they were and no amount of wishing would change that.

The world was different now, and so was he. It was time to leave the past in the past and make what future he could for himself. Just as he always had.

Ezra made his way back to his horse. He took one last look at the house before mounting. He closed his eyes and pictured it as he remembered it, as he wanted it to always be, and rode away without looking back. The living sentinels that lined the drive let him pass without comment or condemnation.