Somewhere between their sighs and reminiscing, Mercuxio had his arms wrapped around her, riding Titus again and moving on once again down the road, toward an uncertain future. It was resolute, must be done, and although he wished he could go with her, he couldn't. Too many things here and now kept him chained, and although he wished it weren't so, the promises he made, the oaths he kept, they were the ties that bound.
Somewhere in the quiet of travel, Mercuxio paused, pulling Titus to a halt. "Someone is riding up toward us," he muttered, and gestured Attalia to look up.