A/N: Whatever you do, do not comment on this story. <----Reverse Psychology

Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot.

As silly as it felt, Mal knew for damn sure that if he didn’t keep reminding himself to walk forward, he’d head right back to the shuttle, tail fastened securely between his legs.

For the life of him, he did not know what scared him about this cliff side. It shouldn’t be scary; he’d been there a dozen times before. It wasn’t the cliff side, though. It was what was on the cliff side that Mal couldn’t bear.

Left foot. Right foot.

No noise from the com strapped to his side. He begged for something to be wrong back on the ship so that he’d have to go back, but he knew everything was going all right. The others should be doing fine in such low orbit. It was tough nowadays to land planetside. It was nearly unanimous that this trip was a necessity however. Nearly, as in six against one. Mal had lost.

The utter and unrelenting peacefulness of the situation was tearing Mal’s stomach to literal shreds.

The view was something nice to look at. That was one of the reasons they had picked this site. In retrospect, Mal pondered, it didn’t make much sense. They could have picked a tar pit miles below the planet surface and the feeling would have been the same.

Two years. No, two and a half years. Mal really didn’t like being up there. He wanted to just empty the leather bag he was holding, go back to the shuttle, and get back to Serenity, where he could sleep a little bit. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot.

As he came to the top of the cliff side, Mal tried desperately to examine the dirt on the ground. He silently blamed the sun being too bright, but it really was fine. He knew instinctively where to stop walking, and he dropped the heavy leather to his feet, it thus kicking up dust up into Mal’s nostrils.

Slowly, he raised his head at the stone cylinder in front of him, studying every crack and crevice along the way. The name carved in made