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.

After a while, Tabitha gasped. “We might

after peak, hadn’t brought us any closer to home. We’d even gone so far that we were in another

seemed to further

ran out of the cottage just then. She tugged

He then grew

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

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

down within. Its clay walls were

that farming villages would have used decades ago. The lamp burned dimly at a bare

roof of the cottage was, in fact, a tent stitched together out of gunny sacks. There was dust everywhere. It turned to grime at

that covered the tent looked

out two bowls from a cabinet

man continued to gesture furiously. He seemed

the bowls in front of us. The food was steeped in chili. Nora

exclaimed rather adventurously. She had more of an appetite

flavor of the pickled onions, spicy with a hint of

we’d really tasted anything. The pickled onions thus thoroughly satisfied our

man and his daughter squatted in a corner. They gazed

in her attempts to communicate with them. Along with her hand signals, she deliberately

that we were here to borrow a