When There Is Nothing Left But Love (Ashton And Scarlett)

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.

of us understood what he was trying to say. After a while, Tabitha gasped. “We might have unknowingly crossed the

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

foreign tongue threw us all into disarray. Upon seeing our confused faces, the owner of the cottage seemed to further

of age, ran out of

for a while. He then grew noticeably calmer and lowered the axe in

turned toward us and gestured. Uncomprehendingly, Tabitha made a few hesitant motions with her hands

did, however, let us into his

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

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

some bowls and utensils in a neat stack in a corner. The roof of the cottage was, in fact, a tent stitched together

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

from a cabinet

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

in front of us. The food was steeped in chili. Nora recoiled

onions. I think it’s supposed to be a starting dish. Shall we try it?” Tabitha exclaimed rather adventurously. She had more of an appetite than the rest

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

corner. They gazed at us

Nora persisted in her attempts to communicate with them. Along with her hand signals, she deliberately spoke a few

understand that we