Crimson Hunger

Chapter 11

"Are you dehydrated?"

"No, I feel alive," he jumped to his feet and extended his right hand to Ada. She put her left hand in his, he clutched it and pulled her abruptly to her feet, making her heart flutter.

"Close your eyes," he commanded, his voice a rich whisper.

"Why would I wanna do that?" She objected.

"Stop talking and close your eyes," he said, his hand still clutching hers.    

Slowly and cautiously, Ada closed her eyes and stood still, desperate to drift away. Every muscle in her body was fully alert. She felt Ian raise her hand to place it on his shoulder then slide his around her waistline. She gasped, her eyes still closed, but for the first time in her life, she was not offended nor repulsed by a man's touch. She allowed his hand to travel all the way to her back. His robust arm felt like support against everything weighing her down. His other hand gently touched her shoulder and caressed her arm as it slid to take hers in it and raise it into the void. She felt exposed as the chilly breeze found its way to her armpit.

His sturdy body started to lead hers in a rhythmic movement, gently swaying it and turning around harmoniously with it. She was his ballroom doll and she didn't mind. The music finally started to play in her head and she surrendered to it... and to him. Her feet were gliding on clouds and it felt as if time decided to pause and watch them dance.

The gliding stopped and Ian announced, "Okay, princess, the break is over."

Ada's heart sank as she opened her eyes to watch him step away. He motioned for her to follow him, "Come on, we need to get back home before sunset," he said. She felt suddenly overwhelmed with fury, but was unable to find the right words nor a good reason for it, so she stomped after him in silence.

They stopped at a small stone hut. Outside, crops were displayed in large baskets and containers. The two walked inside, searching for the owner, who was right behind the front door making a dish of tea on an oil stove and reading a book.

The tea's aroma filled their lungs and they felt as if they were Hansel and Gretel arriving at the witch's cake and confectionery house. Their eyes grew wide with surprise as they saw how the cultures met inside that miserable hut—there were Nutella, Nescafe, Dairy Milk, L'Oréal, Nivea and Vaseline products... and many others. Who would believe these products existed in this remote, primitive area?

"Ahlan wa sahlan (hello and welcome)," the owner said, smiling as he watched the two get lost in his products. He was in his late sixties, had a bushy white mustache and heavy eyelids hiding behind thick eyeglasses.

"Forgive us," Ada said, giggling uneasily, "we weren't expecting all of this."

Ian helped himself to a jar of Nescafe Gold Instant Coffee, a jar of Nutella spread and some bread because he didn't understand what the two were saying in Arabic and didn't like standing around motionless.

"You're not from around," the shopkeeper said.

"Ummm... no, we're just visiting," Ada replied.

"Visiting in this weather?"

"Yes, we love the snow and we thought the scenery would be beautiful here."

"You're a charming couple, I must say."