Twilight Tundra's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

The pots were clean, but they were empty. Twilight needed what went inside them. She thought of the root cellar at the edge of town, the one with vegetables packed in sawdust and smoked meat hanging from the rafters. The owner had left two days ago to help family in another province. Twilight stood outside the log cabin and looked at the door. She knew what was inside. Potatoes, carrots, turnips. Enough to make soup for everyone in the field hospital. The owner wouldn't be back for a week. The sick couldn't wait that long. She pushed the door open and walked down the narrow stairs to the cellar. The air smelled like earth and wood smoke. She filled her bag with vegetables and took two strips of smoked meat from the rafter hooks. Near the door, fishing poles leaned against the wall, their handles worn smooth from use. Someone who cared about those poles. Someone who would notice what was missing. She climbed back up the stairs and stopped at the cabin's small table. Her hand shook as she pulled out a scrap of paper and wrote the words: "I took vegetables and meat. I will repay you." She signed her name at the bottom. The note sat on the table, small and inadequate. It wasn't permission. It wasn't enough. But it was all she could offer. Twilight walked back toward town with the bag heavy on her shoulder. The vegetables would make soup. The soup would help the sick. And when the owner returned, she would face whatever came next. She had chosen to help now instead of waiting for permission. The choice sat in her chest like a stone, solid and unmovable.