Chapter 24:
The Refugee Finds Salvation
NELLY WAS UTTERLY EXHAUSTED. Her husband had been conscripted, and she had no way of knowing if he was still alive. To say she was lost in despair was an understatement—but with children to care for, she couldn’t let the tears flow free. She would be a ship lost at sea without them to anchor her.
Her sons were three and five. Their little trio huddled together every night on their voyage, Nelly thinking only of her homeland. Why did she have to run from the place she was born and raised? And with our home empty, who will be there to welcome my husband when he returns—if he returns?
But there was no substitute for safety. A neighboring village was attacked, their food stolen. It was a tragedy, with most of the casualties being women and children. A few escaped by the skin of their teeth, covered in blood. And those escapees? Many died of their injuries. The horrors of war had encroached dangerously close.
When Nelly realized that she and her children could be next, she was terrified. Her entire village fled together, along with two or three neighboring villages. Those whose settlements hadn’t been ravaged were forced to travel the farthest for refuge. It was the start of a long journey.
Any deserters were left behind. The days pressed on and chipped away at the moral part of her, the part that wanted to help and support others. She grew more selfish, more annoyed at her children and their grumblings—and she hated herself for all of it.
Even after they left their homeland behind, they couldn’t rest easy. Bandits appeared along the way, eager to relieve them of what few possessions they had left. The Parteans had proved as strong and capable as the rumors suggested, but there were still casualties. She couldn’t let her guard down. All along, she wondered, Will we reach our destination safely?
Paranoia took hold of her. Maybe this was their intention all along. To shave down our numbers slowly but surely.
No one wanted to shoulder an unnecessary burden, and that was what they were. All she had was the clothes on her back. She doubted she would be of much use to anyone, no matter where she ended up. Yet she was too afraid of death to give in.
She was greatly relieved when the deacon, whom she’d known before their flight, told her of the saint’s plea. It was reassuring that some other country would take her in without question. This voyage wouldn’t be for naught. At the same time, it shook her when she realized what she was: a refugee.
I haven’t done anything wrong, though. All she did was live a normal life in a place racked by a war she never asked for, one that had ripped her husband from her and eventually turned her into a refugee. And that was what she was now: a refugee, not the ordinary person she had been.