The taxi bumped lightly on the dirt road that led into the small town of Mollepata.

Extremely pleased with the money I had paid in the heat of the moment, the driver was adamant in trying to convince me to allow him the privilege of taking me to the next smallest town, Cruzpata, and even further to Soraypampa, all with a little extra fee, of course.

Now, I was tempted, truth be told, but after a little rest and two or so hours of groggy meditation, I felt more alert than I naturally was, which was a strange feeling for me, but I embraced it and made up my mind to invest in easy goings no more till I achieved my ultimate goal: surviving the journey alone.

Alighting from the taxi, I ignored his persistent buggering and took a couple of curious steps forward, glad when the driver finally gave up and made his way back to Arcopata.

Hmm, not bad, I thought as I stared at the pretty layout of the town. From where I stood at what I believed to be the main square, I could see a good amount of trees separated by short fences that encompassed most of the sparse buildings. The land looked neat and open from my point of view and I supposed it wouldn’t be difficult to guess where the town started and ended.

I took in a deep breath and looked up beyond the structures. The sight that the sloping, cloudy mountains displayed, surrounding the town’s posterior, should’ve sent jitters of excitement racing down my spine. But I wasn’t one for nature, exploring. The only thing happily gliding down the length of my spine was the blasted sweat that seemed to have manifested out of nowhere the second I’d alighted.

Silently cursing myself for wearing a long-sleeved blouse made out of a material that I suspected was not regular cotton, I surveyed the area with a frown. It was quieter than I’d expected. I only saw a few people walk out here and there, but overall, it was a relatively dead.

I checked my watch, confused as to why it was so. With the sun shining above a few stray clouds, it was just past 10 am, a reasonable time to be active, but the town showed contrary.

But no matter, it didn’t directly affected me so I couldn’t have cared any less. Since I wasn’t planning on staying long, I tugged my backpack closer and searched for a decent place to eat. I wasn’t hungry, but foreseeing the amount of kilometres I was about to journey through was a smart reminder that I was not as fit as I would’ve preferred and would most likely collapse halfway through without the needed nutrition.

Feeling it necessary to be better assured now than miserable later, I sucked in another deep breath before carefully traversing through the half-asleep town in search of a dine area.

*~*

About forty minutes later, I was standing outside another one of the “restaurants” I’d manage to locate with a deep scowl etched across my face.

Thoroughly unsatisfied with the services and cuisines I was being offered at each turn, I shook away the hunger faintly gnawing in my belly and stuck my chin in the air, ready to begin my trek with or without breakfast, but stopped dead in my tracks when an unpleasant sight snagged my peripheral vision.

I narrowed my eyes at the manifesting figure that looked familiar, knowing deep down in my gut that I’d seen such a face somewhere before.

It was when I caught sight of those large green boots – which had been scorched in my memory for some reason – that realisation dawned like a searing flash of lightning.

It was the rude stranger from before, and the idiot was walking purposely towards me.

Instantly wary, I turned my back on him and began to walk onward as though I hadn’t a single care in the world. However, when I felt him edge closer, I immediately changed tactics and picked up the pace, trying to create as much distance between us as I possibly could. But no, the long-legged buffoon kept narrowing the distance and spiking my anxiety with each step.

My eyes widened suddenly when stray images of him tackling me to the ground and hitching up my skirt crossed my mind’s eye.

Would he dare? I scrunched my eyebrows in growing trepidation. No, impossible. He probably just wants to rob me. No one would be that stupid to rape in broad daylight right under people’s noses.

Right?

I cast a fleeting look at the receding town and gulped. The place appeared remote; visually vibrant, but devoid of people. Even as I neared the dirt road that I presumed would ultimately lead to Soraypampa – that someone had been hesitant enough to point, the one or two residents I spotted did not seem bothered at all by the tall male specimen’s obvious intent on making a grab for me.

And to add salt to my gaping wound, there had been one last house that I’d passed before I left the last of Mollepata’s civilisation behind me. At seeing the homey albeit degrading structure, I was tempted to sail through the front door behind the old woman sitting on her porch and beg for temporary cover.

But the traitor looked up from whatever she’d been doing and waved – with so much vigour, might I add  – to the stalker behind me. Just then, a horrible myriad of thoughts chittered in my brain further enhancing my mortification.

What if it’s common for men to chase women and have their wicked way with them? What if it’s customary to witness the vile act and partake in it? What if...?

The feel of fingers brushing against my arm so quickly had me stumbling out of my reverie in shock. The fool was right behind me! 

“No! Don’t touch me!” I shrieked the second I felt his hand grab my left arm, pulling me to a stop and turning me about to face him. The action was so abrupt that I threw all my principles and the notion that no one would come to my aid right into the blasted wind and screamed with everything I’d got.

Taken aback, the stranger immediately let go of my arm, an irritated frown marring his somewhat handsome face.

The scream slowly died on my lips when he didn’t make another move, and I took that opportunity to study him. All of a sudden, I became aware of how black his eyes were, although those were not the only features that had caught my attention. Oh no. It was his hair.

Bloody hell, but he was hairy; from his side burns down to his beard and moustache – not forgetting the thick, black curly hairs peeking over the neckline of his T-shirt and those dotting his exposed arms. The hair on his head was also as dark as his eyes as it swayed in short but unruly curls in accordance to the gentle sway of the wind.

It felt so weird seeing him anew under a more reliable light source. The distinctness between the stranger I’d met earlier and the one standing before me was so great that I stood stupefied, staring at the hair on his face and wondering if his words would sound as silky as his tendrils appeared...

Wait. Was he saying something?

I squinted at his lips, thinking I’d hallucinated the movement, but I stood justified. They had moved again, and although my ears hadn’t picked up any sound yet, I was positive he had made actual sounds  with actual words.

Confused yet still captivated – especially by the hair around his mouth – I detected a noticeable scar that cut across his upper lip. It was such a startling contrast against his–

There! Again. His lips had moved again! And he’s getting closer! He’s... I paused with a frown. Wait, what is he...?

My thoughts drifted into nothing when he closed the distance and snatched one handle of my backpack right off my shoulder.

“Hey!” I reached out to retrieve it but he swiftly blocked my access and dumped my bag on the dusty ground, unzipping it like he’d had every right to. “W-What are you–? Stop that! Thief!”

“Where’re your boots?” he asked in such a low, demanding tone that I froze when the words spewed out of his mouth in one of the strangest accents I’d ever heard. Caught off guard, I opened and closed my mouth a couple of times before uttering in bewilderment, “My what?”

“Are you deaf?”

“I– What?” I still stood like an idiot, shocked by the unusual tinge in his voice and also because he’d had the audacity to snatch and rummage through my backpack as if it belonged to him. Nevertheless, when I saw him aim for the small inside pockets that I’d unceremoniously stacked to the brim with money, my body launched into action and I reached over his hunched form, snatching the bag back from him.

“Stay back, thief!” I spat, clutching the backpack with an accusing glare aimed right at his face. “Who the devil are you?”

He didn’t answer immediately, only remained in his kneeling position as he watched me, perusing my figure with a keen eye that made me feel more than uncomfortable.

“Well?” I demanded and moved a step back. “I’ve got a weapon, so do not test me.”

Still not replying nor reacting to my solid threats, he brought himself to his feet and threw something in my direction. Reflex had me jumping back to avoid whatever was being hurtled my way, but when my eyes locked on a familiar engraved pocketknife lying worthlessly on the ground, I scrambled down to retrieve it.

After the heirloom was secured in my grasp, I straightened to my full height, unfolded the small weapon and locked gazes with him, suppressing a slight shiver of fear when I was met with not even the littlest amount of warmth.

“Go home.”

It took some time to realise that he’d  actually spoken, but by then it was too late for a sensible retort. Without another word, the stranger brushed past me and headed toward the dirt road, leaving me standing there with my words stuck in my throat while gaping at his retreating backside like the nitwit I was.