Promises

It was lying in the mud next to the creek where we were looking for frogs to annoy and stones to overturn. It was an idyllic afternoon, warm, summery with the scent of the damp forest and wet soil between our toes as we sat down to examine it. It was a small round ring made of gold. Seemed to be a man's ring completely plain in every way, except for an intricate verse immaculately engraved.

Never apart, not even in death.