NovelOnlineThe campfire crackled as a chicken roasted to perfection, its mouthwatering aroma wafting through the air.
The locals had never ventured beyond their island for they had no need of boats. They raised cows and chickens, and when the
tide receded, they'd gather fish and shellfish from the bountiful sea. There was no fear of hunger here; the island provided.
The doctor arrived with a fine bottle of wine, and soon the beachside gathering was alive with song and dance. Laughter mingled
with the clink of glasses as they shared the roast and sipped the vintage, which Tanya noted with approval, had the complex
bouquet of a Lafite.
Tanya, however, kept to herself, sipping quietly at her wine. She wasn't one to join the revelry.
After their feast, the women sprang into action. They herded the cows and chickens into the barn, then set about harvesting crops
and picking fruit. Tanya knew this flurry of activity had to mean a storm was brewing. Tanya was certain that they must be in
contact with the outside world or they couldn't have known the weather forecast.
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She approached the doctor, "Is there a storm coming?"
"Yes," the doctor replied with a nod.
"How do you all know?" Tanya inquired.
The doctor pointed to a line of ants marching up a palm tree, saying, "These ants are our weather forecasters. When they move up
the tree, a storm is on its way. The higher they climb, the worse it will be." She paused and then added, "Look at them all going up
to the top of the tree today, that means there's a big storm."
Indeed, as evening approached, dark clouds massed and fierce winds began to howl.
Inside the sturdy villa, the dining room was lit with a warm glow. The staff sat leisurely, relishing a sumptuous dinner. Having had
chicken at noon, they now savored fish and coconut crab by candlelight.
Tanya cracked a piece of succulent crab meat and remarked, "This storm's a fierce one, but thankfully, we're rarely hit. Our little
island's quite sheltered."
The doctor chuckled, "A storm now and then adds a bit of excitement. Falling asleep to the sounds of the wind and rain is rather
pleasant. Tomorrow morning, we'll don our helmets and pick up the coconuts the storm has scattered."
Under the table, kittens nibbled on fish scraps while a pup gnawed contentedly on a bone. The room was a picture of harmony,
untouched by the tempest outside.
Tanya's thoughts, however, were on the boat she had been secretly building. She needed to make sure it remained hidden,
especially now. The storm churned up the sea, sending three-meter waves crashing toward shore.
Tanya sat by a window, her gaze lost to the churning ocean, as she dined alone. She preferred the solitude to the noisy dinner
conversations in languages she hardly understood.
After the meal, the locals gathered in the great hall, extinguished the lights, and lit candles. They began to share ghost stories, a
thrilling paston such a tempestuous night. Tanya couldn't grasp the tales, but the expressions of fear were a universal
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The women seemed to find endless entertainment on this isolated island, seemingly content with their simple existence. They
were, after all, refugees who had escaped the long-term conflicts of their homeland. Here, with a roof over their heads and no want
for food, they had found a kind of paradise.
They would have had nothing to aspire to, and everything would have been about living.
With nothing else to do, Tanya retreated to her room to sleep early.
The next day, after the storm had passed, Tanya covered her unfinished boat with branches before anyone else awoke. Returning
to the house, she found the doctor stepping out with a cup of coffee.
"In a place with only women, don't you ever want to marry, or have children?" Tanya asked.
The doctor sighed, "I was injured in the war, and | can't have children, and neither can the others."
Tanya drew a sharp breath, suddenly understanding the lack of desire these women had to leave.
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