It was quiet. He wasn’t used to the quiet. Not anymore. A part of him itched to hurry his pace, as though something was wrong, but he managed to ignore it. Stars above shone as brightly here as they did anywhere, and yet they seemed more vibrant. Maybe it was the lack of smoke in the air, or he simply had the time and wherewithal to actually look at them. He loved the stars.

Music, faint but clear, drifted through the night air. Without thinking he turned and began walking towards it. It called to him like a siren from ancient myth, compelling him forwards. When he reached the plaza where it was coming from he stopped and stood on the edge of the dim light that shone down over the players. A half dozen people sat around a dry fountain, playing music, while a handful of others danced. It wasn’t a loud affair, rather it was almost solemn, intimate. Not many street lamps were on right now, but the ones around the fountain had been turned on, illuminating those around it.

He thought of his own wife back home and unconsciously placed his hand over his heart where he kept her most recent letter, as well as the small gift he’d bought for her. He’d give it to her himself rather than sending it to her in the mail even though it was small enough to fit in an envelope. Having that moment to look forward to kept him going during the bad days. On days like today, these rare, quiet days, he would smile and think of the gift and how his wife would react. As if seeing him wouldn’t be the better of the two gifts.

The dancers clearly weren’t professionals but what they lacked in talent they made up for in passion. There was joy in every step, love in every sway. They clung to one another as though they would lose each other if they ever let go. He remembered dancing like that with his wife the night before he left. He’d dance like that again when he returned.

He moved along before the dancers or the musicians noticed him. This was their city, their time to celebrate, and he didn’t want to impose. After a few blocks, he stopped and pulled out the small map of the city he’d been given. It took a minute or two to find where he was but then he set off once again, walking with a confidence that belied his ignorance of the city. There were so many ancient buildings here that he wanted to see and it was a pity he only had this one night to try and see them. He’d be gone before the sun was up and would have no time to explore later.

Perhaps ancient was the wrong word to describe this place. Many of the buildings here were hundreds of years old, quite a bit older than anything he’d find back home, but that wasn’t necessarily ancient. Ancient was more like a thousand years old, maybe older. How old were the pyramids? Those were definitely ancient.

The building that rose up before him now was at least three hundred years old. It was a wonder people could have built such a thing with the tools of the age. Then again, wasn’t that true for every age? We were always building marvels right on the edge of our technological power. Perhaps future generations would look back at his time and wonder how they could have built so tall with only simple cranes. He wished it was brighter, bright enough to sketch by, at least. Then he could sit on a bench and draw out the entire skyline. Starlight and moon light were enough to see the basic shapes at least.

His meander through the city lasted only a short while longer. He had to get back and go to bed. He was tired, bone tired, from all that he’d been doing these last few years. Had it really been that long? Some times it didn’t feel like it, and other time it felt like it had been going on forever. Only in the last little while did it feel like this war was coming to an end. They were marching ever closer to the end. To victory. To going home.

He wiped a tear away and sniffed. If any of the guys back at camp saw him crying they’d never let him forget it. As if none of them had ever cried during this war. They all missed home, sometimes more than others. All the same he stopped the tears before he returned. His cot was cold but the air was warm so it made for a pleasant spot to lie down. He’d even worked up a small sweat during his walk. There were a few others around him still awake, still flush with adrenaline and the scent of victory. Hushed voices spoke out of the darkness, many of them talking about home. A few spoke of what was still to come but those voices were even quieter as though they didn’t want to impede upon the hope of the others around them.

There was still quite a long ways to go. In many ways he felt like a long distance runner who’s just gotten a peak at the finish line even though there’s still miles and miles to go. It gave him hope, knowing the end was so near, but also felt exhausting knowing how far it still was. He was better off just focusing on where he was right now, on running this part of the race and not worrying about what was yet to come.

As sleep finally took him, he allowed himself to wonder just how much longer he had to wait before he could give his wife her gift. He didn’t want to jinx it, but if he could be back before her birthday later this year, that would be ideal. It would make for such a good birthday gift. She always loved surprises and what would be more surprising than that.