I knew she was teasing.
Law protected the land. So even if we could have afforded to buy land one day and build, it wouldn’t have been here.
That came with a sense of sadness, a weight tugging down on my chest.
I would never be where I belonged.
I belonged with nature.
Surrounded by rocky valleys and harsh limestone, rushing rivers and trickling streams, the thick green of the hills that, from here, looked as rich as moss.
The air was fresher than I remembered.
It had been a good year since my last hike, and that was too long ago. My body had forgotten what it felt like to be home.
It reminded me all over again of a dream I could never reach.
Even if I had Bee, in some council flat or old people’s home, it just…
It wouldn’t be enough.
It wouldn’t be this.
I would never be home.
FIFTEEN
Samick took my words to heart—and absorbed them.
For a few more days and nights of darkness, we walk, we stop, we eat, we rest, and then we walk again.
He doesn’t speak to me.
And, finally, we come across an inferno blazing in the dark.
The flames burn so high and hot that the blackout fades from our boots.
I look down and see my laces shifting with each swift step I take up the uneven road. I didn’t tie them tight enough for the long walk, but there’s no time to stop now.
A lace lashes against the side of my boot.
Potholes litter the ground beneath me, until Samick tugs on the tether and I’m yanked over to the dirt bordering the road.
He isn’t patient as he takes me off-path, the straight shot to the burning town, and instead we go around the blaze, through dirt and puddles and shadows.
The rush to get to the unit washes away any fear I had.
If I was smarter, I would feel the urge to turn and run in the other direction, or drop my weight to the earth and force Samick to literally drag my ass back to the unit.
But all I can think is that I’m so close to the unit that I’m close to the promise of a campfire and a meal and a rest.
And all of that brings me closer to Bee.
So my legs move as quickly as they can, cutting through shadows and puddles, and my breaths are turning ragged.
I draw on the scraps of the inhaler.
Samick hasn’t taken it back yet.
