The End of the Journey

The End of the Journey

I coughed, the dust my walking had stirred up, had coated my throat making it hard to breath. My breath came harder with every breath, and I got wearier with every step. Finally, I could walk no further, and collapsed in a heap in the middle of the dirt road. Before I might have cared about being dirty but as my clothes where brown with dirt and mud, my blond hair tangled in one big knot, even my sapphire eyes seemed unpolished, dull.
I had only walked because I had nothing else to do except cry, and I was afraid of crying, because I felt if I cried one more time I would simply fall apart, torn apart by my bottomless sadness.
I couldn't remember how long I had been walking non-stop, a day, a week, a month? I only remembered the biting sadness that had driven be from my home, a hollowed place of sadness. The place where my parents had died of The Fever. The empty rooms seemed to echo with there dying words of, "I love you, take care of your self."
I almost laughed, but it came out as a strangled wisp of a sound, I had done I rotten job fulfilling their last wish.
"Hello?" I heard a voice ask. I looked up and saw a middle age women with cinnamon red hair, and warm brown eyes. "Are you okay?" she asked with concern.
I tried to answer to tell her I was fine was I was to tired to talk. I felt her pick me up and carry me, for how long I wasn't sure. After I time I felt myself being set in a bed. A drink was placed in my hand, but when the women saw I was to tired to hold it, she held it while I drank.
The warm tea burned my throat, but soothed it as well. The peppermint drink, cleaned my throat of the dust. Once I was able to talk, I mumbled out my story to her, so tired I could barely think. I finished with, " I can't go back home, but I can't wander forever. Maybe someday I'll find a home."
"You know," the women said thoughtfully, "I get really lonely, and could use a helping hand on the farm, you could live with me. I really like that."
"I'll think about it," I told her, rolling over on to my side. She seemed really nice, and where else was I to go? All of my family was dead, except for my horse, Mist who I had to sell to pay for my parents funeral. I wondered in the back of my mind if I could buy back mist someday. Someday, when I was possibly living with this kind, loving women. I was to tired to think but at the moment, I thought this would make a great home. I drifted off to sleep, comforted through my pain, that I had found a place I could belong to, and as the world of dreams began to embrace me, I was happy because I had come to my journeys end.