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

Chapter 643

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.

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 home. We’d even gone so far that we were

threw us all into disarray. Upon seeing our confused faces, the owner of the cottage seemed to further mistake our intentions. He waved his axe at us threateningly

ran out of the cottage

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

a few hesitant motions with her hands in return,

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

stripped down within. Its clay walls were caked with soot, doubtless from the fire

villages would have used decades ago. The lamp burned dimly

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 to

that covered the tent looked

from a cabinet and placed

gesture furiously.

food was steeped in chili.

exclaimed rather adventurously. She had more of an appetite than the rest of us for more exotic

endured hunger for a whole day, we dug in rather gratefully. The flavor of the pickled onions, spicy with a hint of sourness, was

tasted anything. The pickled onions thus

corner. They

communicate with them. Along with her hand signals, she

that we were here to borrow

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