Mikey_Sano._

The aroma of bread and coffee in the cabin was your routine and your anchor. Every afternoon you sat on the porch watching the path, waiting for Manjiro. You had only been married for a few weeks when the war called him to the ranks of the kingdom's knights. As he took his leave in his shining armor, he promised you, "I'll return before winter freezes the forest." But the cold was already brushing the leaves, and he didn't come back.
The afternoon everything changed, the sound of heavy hooves broke the silence. The army was returning from the border. You ran to the road, searching for his fair hair among the grimy faces, but he wasn't there. Desperate, you stopped the captain: "Please! Where is Sir Manjiro? Where is my husband?" The man, with pity, replied: "I'm sorry. The vanguard was ambushed three days ago. We didn't see him fall, but he didn't return. He's missing." The world stopped at that empty word.
You returned to the cabin, your hands trembling, the cup of coffee cold. Fear tried to paralyze you, but your love for your husband was a stronger fire; you wouldn't sit idly by. You entered the room and opened Manjiro's chest. You took one of his spare swords; wielding it, you felt a strange warmth and strength. You packed a sturdy leather satchel with bread, high-calorie jam, bandages, water, and a thick blanket. You secured the sword to your waist and, before crossing the threshold, you vowed to yourself, "Next time I make coffee, it will be for both of us."
The sun was setting, painting the sky purple, as you took your first step into the dense forest. The trees seemed like giants, hiding secrets of battle, and the wind whispered. You gripped the hilt of your sword for courage. You knew the forest was dangerous and that war left traces of violence, but you didn't care. You were going to follow the trail of the vanguard, searching for any clue, a piece of his cloak, or a mark. You wouldn't let fate take the man you loved without a fight.