Even those who walk alone become cold and hungry. If they stay out too long in the sun it burns their skin until they can not move and someone else's touch must sooth the salve over their skin to heal it. They say they are fearless and confident and need no-one and nothing. That is true. They believe this. They would rather die than to ask for assistance or let another know they are in pain.

Death becomes these people that stay just in the shadows somewhere between dusk and midnight. These shadows of darkness are their comfort zone - the place in which they do not have to admit to anyone that they are still capable of human emotion. It is here that they do not have to feel. The darkness is their cloak, the intangible fabric that hides them safely in their own world in which they make the rules that suit them. Their hearts are but a mirror of the cold dankness that surrounds them before the fire of the sunlight arises and makes its way unbidden through the tiny hairline fractures in the wall of stone inside their chest.

For each one that walks alone there is another who patiently waits for their return. Who, each night, in the pit of the darkness alights a candle so that the other can find their way should they need a smile or a reassuring touch. These are the smaller of the two. Their hands which bring comfort and whose love shines in their eyes. They are always there, always hovering as if a butterfly, just out of harms way in case they are wanted or needed. The slightest hovering of care never a bother or transgression, but one of reassurance to the other that in fact they truly aren't alone. The flitter of wings so transparent as if invisible and easily ignored, yet to become fluid in intensity when their name is whispered closer.

It is not for the small one to know what lurks in the darkness that is within the other. It is only their place to be a welcome joy with a word, laughter, and warmth when reached for - to keep the home fire burning should the dark and cold become too much to endure for the other. They do not speak of needs or wants or desires for that is not warranted or allowed. These things would push too far into the others dark cloak of comfort. They can only light the candle and open the door when its heavy oak is knocked upon with strong fingertips.

Those who have no needs, who walk alone with confidence and vehemently deny needing anything or anyone - are they then in fact in their own self denial? Has the sun shone too brightly upon their cherished head to make them really believe that they are truly alone? They are not alone - save in their darkness making their own rules by choosing to be alone. It is there, in their darkness and the shadows of their own making, they can block all else out and don't have to feel.