I had forgotten how beautiful the country is. Rolling hills that drift into yellows and reds and oranges all framed by green. So much green. A dappled landscape that sings with the wind. 

I see myself in the shadows of clouds, a child with a sword too large for his hands. I was so young when the anger consumed me and boiled into hatred and revenge. 

I left the Revenge in capable hands. A woman, actually. I thought all of the hearsay of women on ships being bad luck would do the Dread Pirate Roberts' name some good. She was born of sea water, the ocean storms rip through her veins. Her blade is as natural in her hands as the helm. I made her my first mate for a few weeks before I slipped off the ship into the cover of night. 

I did not look back. 

She knew the plan and while she frowned when I told her, she did not say no. Some people are born knowing what they are meant to become. 

For nearly my entire life, all I wanted was revenge. My every waking moment I trained to best the six-fingered man. When I laid down to rest, I imagined plunging my blade through his heart. I spent years crafting my introduction. 

"Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die."

I had kept a smaller journal then---though calling it a journal is being beyond generous--- and when I could scavenge a bit of charcoal, I'd write that line in the light of the moon until the charcoal was gone. Then I would use the residue on my fingers until they ached to bleed. It had come to me in a dream. A dream where both my mother and father were alive and we grew grapes in the countryside of Spain.

I still have miles to travel through the glittering countryside of what I believe is finally Spain. It smells like dreams and home. On the horizon there are only rolling hills and clouds that look almost familiar. Like I could name them, or at some point had been able to, and have now forgotten how.  

And yet I find myself looking behind me. I yearn for something I can't quite seem to find. For a while, I thought I was looking for the Revenge. My eyes bounced across the sea, scanning for storms and English ships. But it feels like I am just looking. I search when I stare straight ahead at the clouds and landscape and feel like I should recognize them as old friends.