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.

was trying to say. After a

arduous journey we’d made, crossing peak after peak, hadn’t brought us any closer to home. We’d even gone so far that we were

cottage seemed to further mistake

sixteen years of age, ran out of the cottage just then.

with the man for a while. He then grew noticeably calmer and

and gestured. Uncomprehendingly, Tabitha made a few hesitant motions with her hands in return, trying to

couldn’t tell if he understood. He did, however,

Its clay walls were

filament lamp hung from the ceiling, the sort that farming villages would have used decades ago. The lamp burned dimly at a bare fifty watts, probably to save on electricity

were some bowls and utensils in a neat stack in a corner. The roof of the cottage was, in fact, a tent stitched together out of gunny sacks. There was dust everywhere. It turned

the tent looked sure to be full of

bowls from a cabinet and placed them

language barrier, the man continued to gesture furiously. He seemed to be

us. The food was steeped in chili. Nora recoiled

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

a whole day, we dug in rather gratefully. The flavor of

few days since we’d really tasted

corner. They gazed at us with curiosity and awe,

with them. Along with her hand

understand that we were