When There Is Nothing Left But Love

Nora turned to me and queried, “Scarlett, if we indeed get to go home this time around, what would you want to do most of all?”

What did I want? That question lingered in my mind as I continued trudging forward, deep in thought.

There wasn’t any food I was especially craving. After a moment’s pause, I concluded, “I want to see the person I miss most, give him a hug, and apologize to him face-to-face.”

Nora seemed taken by surprise. Then she curiously pressed, “Is it somebody you’re in love with?”

I gave her a faint smile but declined to reply.

Night had fallen when we finally reached saw signs of human life. The village we’d arrived at was located in quite a rural area of the mountains, and perhaps due to its inaccessibility, there didn’t seem to be many inhabitants around.

From the number of lamps we’d counted shining in the dark, there were probably thirty to forty households scattered throughout the village.

“Let’s find a place to hunker down for the night,” Nora suggested, already making her way towards the door of the nearest cottage.

“Woof! Woof!” A dog suddenly rushed out into the yard and began sounding the alert at our sudden intrusion.

We clung to each other, terrified. Fortunately, the dog was leashed to a rope. It strained against its tether, barking continuously.

The owner of the cottage had evidently heard the ruckus. Out stepped a middle-aged man with tan, weathered skin.

he was trying to say. After a while, Tabitha gasped. “We might have unknowingly crossed the border into

after peak, hadn’t brought us any closer to

owner of the cottage seemed to further mistake our intentions. He waved his axe at us threateningly in a

out

urgently conferred with the man for a while. He then grew noticeably

man then turned toward us and gestured. Uncomprehendingly, Tabitha made a few hesitant motions with her hands in return, trying

tell if he understood. He did, however, let us into his

Its clay walls were caked with soot, doubtless from the fire that was burning in its

lamp burned dimly at a bare fifty watts, probably to save on electricity costs. Shadows filled the

in fact, a tent stitched together out of gunny sacks. There

small heaps of blackened dirt that covered the tent looked sure to be

out two bowls from a cabinet and placed them

the man continued to gesture furiously. He

us. The food was steeped

dish. Shall we try it?” Tabitha exclaimed rather adventurously. She had more of

rather gratefully. The flavor of the pickled onions, spicy with a hint of sourness, was quite

been a few days since we’d really tasted anything. The pickled onions thus thoroughly satisfied

corner. They

communicate with them. Along with her hand

understand that we were here to borrow a device to