[ TT ] She clutched a tattered box to her chest

She clutched a tattered box to her chest. Approaching through the fog, she hugged the box closer and closer still, even though her grimy hands and pale knuckles looked too weak to hold anything so tightly. A ragged dress hung from the slight frame and her long dark hair dripped wet fog crystals. All was silent in the heavy, damp air. She didn ’ t even look up as she reached him and collapsed with a sigh, crumbling like a paper bird into his arms. 
 
 Gingerly, he brushed back the thin strands covering her face. Not quite believing still, he searched her narrow frame for the one thing that would identify her truly as his lost beloved. Could it really be her after all this time, or just another cruel trick from the ancient loveless ones who ruled this place? He hunted beneath the dirt of endless miles, which surely she could not have crossed. She was almost a ghost in his arms. 
 
 Her mark was not there. Desperate now he rubbed harder at her forearm, as if the tattoo would appear on her skin just by wishing it there. She shifted and cried in pain, and he made to throw her from him, but with a last effort she thrust the box into his own thin chest. The wet and peeling cardboard disintegrated on impact, and a tiny blackbird flew out to meet him. 
 
 “ I gave you my heart, ” she whispered. Looking down he saw her clear blue eyes open one last time. “ That is how I found you. Now I give you my life, such that remains. ” She smiled, and then even that faded, and she was gone. 
 
 The blackbird took her place in his hands, and it seemed more alive than anything he had ever held. Then it preened its feathers, lifted its beautiful head, and sang until the fog rolled back and the days returned and his heart was full once again. The endless prison was fading away, and soon he would be free. The blackbird sang and sang until she, too, was gone. 
 
 Her life for his. He would never forget. 
 
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 This is my first post. Comments and CC appreciated.
