Image courtesy of Piya Singh (Bittercharm)
Enrique and his wife, Sadie, had walked for hours in overgrown hills and meandered off course. While lumbering through granite rocks and muddy sludge, traces of honeysuckle lit the way to a new path. Once they chose it there was no turning back.
The cottage appeared before them as a mirage with the delicate trickle of water coaxing them closer. They dropped their packs and splashed their faces with cool liquid and drank.
They could rest tonight. Inside a candle burned and a small, feathered bed awaited them. Sadie sighed. The door slammed shut, locking them in. The candle extinguished.