The parallels between that battle – or at least the feeling of it – and where he stood now, were incredibly strong. The way he had been made to wait and conceal himself, in the fullest pitch of battle, merely going slowly, with the direction of the breeze, as best as he possibly could. The same it seemed was required of him now, to be quiet enough and content enough to do hardly anything at all, with the grand and seemingly insane belief that somehow, something would be revealed.
It was with a great effort that Oliver reminded himself of the strength of his current position compared to that of the battle's past. The same sort of feelings swirled up inside of him, the barely contained terror, and the lack of belief, and he had to keep track of them in the same way. But had that battle with the Emerson's not already been the fatal point of victory? Could anything truly be more difficult than that?
He wanted to believe that it couldn't be.
