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Even in the night, as the darkness covered the land and the stars glittered the sky, the three women kept on. They struggled, stopping for a few short breaks, in which the silence was loud, filled with hope, with fear, with thoughts of Israel.

Pushing on, they kept walking. Trying with all their might to turn a seven day journey into five days. It was harder at night. They had no form of protection except for the dagger that Oprah hid in her dress. They came across a few people on the way, people who barely spared them a glance. They were poor widows, after all. It was as relieving as it was humbling.

Seeing the break of dawn, Ruth cried out from utter exhaustion.

"Enough!" She stopped, wiping the sweat from her forehead. Pulling out the satchel that was filled with water. Pouring it down her throat, she found a little ease.

Her legs ached, her feet pulsed,  her arms ached too, from pulling and pushing the wagon.

Wiping the drops of water on her lips, she saw that Orpah and Naomi had stopped too. They, too, pulled out water to drink, gulping  audibly.

"We should rest for a while," Oprah suggested. "I think we've covered a good distance."

"There's a tree, a few feet away," Naomi  pointed at the tree.

Under the shade of the tree, as the sun rose upon the land of Moab, its rays warming, and brightening everything, the three women fell asleep. Orpah held her dagger close to her, ready to pull it out at any moment.

Ruth's head fell on Naomi's shoulder, and she fell asleep as soon as the next breath left her. Oprah's head fell on Naomi’s other shoulder. It took a while for her to fall asleep. She took in the beauty of the morning, the beauty of Moab, her home, and she felt in her heart, a stirring.

Naomi’s head was leaning on the back of the tree, and she was highly aware of the way the two women held on to her. It almost broke her.

Her heavy eyes fluttered shut, with the last thought lingering deep into her dreams. She had to set them free from the tragedy that was her life.

It must've been the afternoon when Naomi’s eyes flitted open, the sun's light glimmering in. She yawned, feeling the ache in her body, thinking of the journey they still had to take. Gently, she withdrew from the hold Ruth and Orpah held her in. They stirred, subconsciously holding each other in their sleep.

Naomi stood and stretched, another yawn tearing out of her lips. Looking back, she stared at the two moabite women, long and hard, a million thoughts running through her mind. Her heart felt heavy as she came to her conclusion, and she found in a sense she was at peace with it.

Ruth woke up first, yawning and stretching. She spotted Naomi on the other side of the road, staring up at the sky. Turning, she gently shook Orpah awake. Oprah stirred, holding Ruth tighter, until she was fully away, yawning and stretching too.

"Tell me we've arrived," Orpah whined but stopped short, seeing Ruth's gaze fixed on Naomi, who remained oddly still.

"Is she okay?" Orpah asked, wide awake now.

A silence settled until Ruth spoke. "Far from it."

Orpah wondered what leaving Moab, grief-stricken, empty handed with nothing but a load of burdens felt like for Naomi, when she had stepped into the land, with her family, and hopes, and dreams and her soul, still intact.

"We should keep moving." Ruth suggested, standing up, as she dusted off her dress.

"The faster we get there, the better, and it's easier to drown in our thoughts when we're standing still."

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