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“Got it, Rock,” I assure him. “We’ll stay and watch. Any sign of trouble and we’ll be ready.”
“Good,” Rock nods. “We can’t afford to make the mistake of underestimating our adversaries. The safety of our village depends on our readiness.”
The group heads into the cave, while Leo and I remain on watch. The following three hours pass by uneventfully, and I notice that Leo feels slightly more at ease. I try to amuse him with funny stories, and it works. He’s laughing, but at the same time, we’re both remaining focused on our task. At the designated hour, we are substituted by another pair of villagers, who come to take our place.
“All’s well,” I tell Bruno, patting him on the back.
“Let’s hope it stays that way,” Bruno nods, and Leo and I head back inside the cave.
We part our ways in front of his cottage, and I decide to go and see Elena. I head to her cottage, knocking softly when I get there. I wait for her response, until I hear it.
“Come in!” she calls out melodiously from inside.
I open the door, only ajar, peering in. “Mind if I come in?”
She looks up at me from the bed, a faint smile on her face. “Not at all. Come on in.”
As I enter, I notice that Elena is seated on the edge of her bed, a notebook in her hands. My curiosity, as always, gets the better of me.
“What’s that you got there?” I ask, closing the door behind me.
She glances at the notebook in her hands, a momentary pause before answering. “It’s just a diary. Something I’ve been keeping for a while.”
I take a step closer, my interest piqued. That is a notebook that holds the very essence of her hopes and dreams.
“A diary, huh?” I raise an eyebrow. “What do you write about in there?”
She chuckles, with a hint of playfulness in her eyes.
“Everything and nothing, really,” she reveals. “Thoughts, experiences, the beauty I find in the world. I guess, it’s a way to make sense of it all.”
I lean against a nearby wall, grinning. “Sounds like a lot of pondering. Mind if I take a peek?”
I didn’t expect her to allow me a peek into her most private world, but she surprises me with her openness.
“Sure,” she smiles. “Why not?”
She pats the place next to her on the bed, signaling at me to take a seat. I jump at the opportunity to do so. Gently, still holding the diary in her lap, she opens it, revealing a mix of sketches, handwritten musings, and snippets of her journey through the village and the surrounding woods. My eyes scan the pages, absorbing the essence of Elena’s musings and introspections.
I look up at her before speaking. “You’re quite the artist. These sketches are something else.”
“They’re nothing really,” she beams, a touch of pride in her expression. “Photography is my real passion. This is just a way of… filling the empty parts of the pages when it’s easier to sketch something than to write it.”
“Can I see more?” I ask, eagerly.
Without a response, she continues to flip through the pages, each one revealing another piece of Elena’s world. As she reaches the end, she closes it, but with it, she has opened a newfound understanding of who she is.
“It’s like a piece of your soul on these pages. I like that,” I tell her.
Her gaze meets mine, in a shared appreciation for the depth of expression.
“It’s a way to keep the memories alive, even when they’re just memories,” she reveals.
“Does it help you when you miss your home?” I ask.
She shrugs. “In order to miss something, you first have to love it.”
“You didn’t love the place where you used to live?” I wonder.
