"Such an ironic statement. Full of life. And yet too often we see those of us living who may as well already be dead. Souls for whom life has not been kind, who have buckled underneath the weight of their burdens or their shackles."

Hazel lets her eyes slip shut and turns her ear toward every breeze softly turning the dried fallen leaves all around them. Here and there the mist swirls as though there are things lurking in it. Figures that are strange but some that might be familiar.

"Do you think he achieved those dreams? Whether he was able to help a nation or even just one person, it does not take much to be a hero to someone."