[ CW ] Describe a landscape from the POV of someone who lost someone close to them in a war . Do not explicitly mention the person , the war , or death .

I love this prompt, so I'm going to give it a go. Apologies if it does n't read well. 
 
 The road stretched before him, a thousand miles or more of winding dust through the green-hilled land. It was spring, and the alpine flowers were just beginning to shake their buds loose and spin into a riot of colour, though the bone grey sky still hung heavy on the horizon. The weather was n't quite warm yet, breeze cold as the grave; the long rush-like grasses that bordered the road beginning to whip at his legs. He nudged at the loose rocks on the road and turned to his left, staring back towards the mountains he had left only a few days ago. He scowled at them, hating how they stood there so stubbornly, and wondered aimlessly how much further he would have to go before he'd no longer be able to see them over his shoulder. 
 
 The road itself was wide enough for two people and, still scowling, he paced the breadth of it, trying to find the side of it he was more comfortable on. Neither would do, so he stood awkwardly in the middle, feet straddling the divide between the left and right side of the road. The clouds above yawned open for a second and a ray of light burst through, hitting the green hill several hundred metres in front of him. It illuminated the flowers fighting for space on the crest of the knoll, before the sombre grey rolled on and the light was gone. 
 
 One last look at the mountains behind him, a fleeting feeling of tasting salt on his lips once more and he walked on, still straddling the centre of a road that would have fit two.
