Filed to story: My Husband Regrets Divorcing Me (Audrey & Cornell)
Upon learning of its worth, the senior man’s reluctance deepened. “I have no need for it. I barter game for all I require. Keep it for yourself,” he replied kindly.
“Sir, I implore you to accept this humble offering. It holds little value in comparison to the debt of gratitude I owe for your timely intervention.”
Despite the senior man’s persistent protests, Nicole stood her ground, her eyes reflecting unwavering determination. She reasoned that the senior man could rely on the gold bracelet in exchange for satisfying his basic needs when he could no longer hunt.
Nicole discreetly tucked the gleaming gold bracelet beneath the plate of roasted game.
Unaware of the gesture, the senior man’s concern for Nicole’s well-being lingered. “You should consider resting some more. I’m surprised you haven’t caught a fever yet since the mountain water can be very cold.”
“I am grateful for your concern, sir, but time is of the essence. My friend needs me and I cannot waste time. Could you spare some dried meat and point me in the right direction?” Feeling hesitant to request assistance, Nicole elaborated.
“Considering the length of the journey, my lack of hunting skills, and the insufficient sustenance wild fruits provide, dried meat is my optimal choice. Water, on the other hand, will be readily available due to the abundance of streams around.”
The senior man expressed surprise, “I can provide you with the meat, but are you certain about venturing into Witch Valley? It poses considerable danger.”
“I am aware of the risks, but my friend is in danger, and I need to save him,” Nicole responded resolutely.
After a brief moment of silence, the senior man’s voice broke through the quiet, tinged with concern. “It’s a dangerous place, you know. Are you absolutely sure you want to go there?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I can’t just leave my friend behind,” Nicole replied firmly.
After a pause, the senior man surprised Nicole with his response. “I won’t just tell you where to go. I’ll come with you.”
Nicole was stunned by his offer, her surprise evident. Concerned for his well-being, she quickly protested, saying, “Sir, you don’t have to do that. I can handle it alone.”
But the senior man shook his head, determined. “It’s not just about you. My own child was in the Witch Valley,” he confessed, his voice revealing the depth of his worry.
Nicole looked slightly confused and asked, “Sir, is your child a boy or a girl? How did your child end up in that situation?”
Now it was Nicole’s turn to feel cautious. Could the senior man’s child be a girl, possibly even a witch?
Luckily, that was not the case. The senior man said with seriousness, “My child is a boy. He was taken by that old white-haired witch. She denies it, but I’m sure she was responsible!”
Nicole slowly started to piece things together. The senior man had discovered an abandoned baby in a trash heap when he was descending the mountain. The infant was cold and had turned purple. When the senior man unwrapped the small blanket around the infant, he saw that the infant was born with only one hand.
He took the baby to a rescue center, but they dismissed him, insisting the child should be sent to an orphanage.
Living in the mountains for years, the senior man didn’t know how to contact the police for help. However, the baby seemed to choose him, grabbing his sleeve tightly with its only hand, without crying or making a fuss.
Moved by this, the senior man decided to take the baby back up the mountain to raise him. As the boy grew, he was healthy despite missing an arm, and his laughter filled the senior man’s mountain home.
The senior man began teaching the boy to read and write, with plans to send him to school outside the mountains when the boy was older. He was concerned, though, that the boy might be bullied at school.
The boy seemed to love life in the mountains and showed no interest in going to school. He preferred hunting with the senior man over reading and writing, showing little talent for academics, so the senior man did not push him.
They lived happily, self-sufficiently in the mountains, with enough supplies from selling their game in town.
From a young age, the senior man warned the boy never to venture to the other side of the mountain where Witch Valley lay. He consistently told the boy that the valley was home to man-eating witches who would snatch up children.
This warning had a solid foundation. There once was a village at the base of the mountain between the two peaks. It was small but had several dozen residents. One day, after people from Witch Valley visited, villagers began to disappear mysteriously. Eventually, the whole village was gone.
Initially, the witches invited the villagers to visit Witch Valley. Later, they used some kind of magic to lead the villagers there willingly.
The senior man had a friend from the village who also vanished. Determined to uncover the truth, he explored and found human remains on the border of Witch Valley.
Terrified, he fled but not before witnessing the white-haired witch conducting a ritual. Animals jumped into a blazing fire like mindless puppets, apparently under the witch’s control.
Using his knowledge of the mountains, the senior man managed to escape. From that point, he made sure to stay far from Witch Valley. He was convinced that the witches’ sorcery was responsible for the village’s disappearance.
One day, while hunting, the senior man spotted a witch in red. His heart sank. How could these people come to his mountain, so far from their own? His primary concern was for the young boy. He hurried home, only to find the house in chaos and his child’s meal left untouched on the table.
The senior man hastily followed his child’s trail to Witch Valley. Outnumbered, he waited until night to stealthily enter. All he found was his child’s clothing in a dirt pit.
At that moment, he was consumed by despair. He yearned for the witches to bring his child back, but, exhausted, he dreamt.
In the dream, his gentle, well-behaved child wept, pleading with him to leave immediately and live a good life.
Perhaps fortune favored his side, and the senior man rolled into some bushes while asleep and evaded the witches’ notice. Realizing there was no hope left, he returned home alone.
Yet, the pain in his heart persisted. Now, seeing Nicole’s determination to save her friend stirred memories of his own past inaction. If a young woman could display such bravery, what did he, an elderly man nearing life’s end, have to lose?
After hearing the senior man’s story, Nicole felt empathy but needed to convey the harsh reality. “Sir, your child might already be gone.”
The senior man nodded, tears welling up. “I know, but I still need to bring him back. That stubborn child would always hunt far and wide, never returning until I called. This time shouldn’t be any different… This time, I must call my stubborn child back home…”
The senior man’s voice carried a weight of grief and age. Nicole found it impossible to deny him and responded, “Alright, let’s bring him back home.”
The senior man gathered his belongings, grabbed some dry food, and stepped out with a hunting rifle. He asked Nicole, “Young lady, do you know how to use this?”
Nicole nodded. She had learned from Roscoe back in the village, though she wasn’t particularly skilled. She confessed, “I can use it, but I’m not very practiced.”
“No worries. As long as you’ve handled it before,” the senior man said confidently. “We’re facing a serious threat this time. We need to be ready to defend ourselves.”
Despite his age and having less to lose, the senior man felt Nicole was too young to face such danger. He then brought a large bucket and announced, “Let’s get moving.”
Nicole noticed the bulky bucket and asked, “Sir, what’s inside that? Isn’t it a bit too heavy?”
The senior man shook his head. “‘It’s not heavy, not heavy at all. It’s filled with good things.”
He didn’t elaborate, and Nicole didn’t probe any further. She offered to help carry it, but he declined.
Nicole packed her dried meat and rifle. The senior man, hardened by years of mountain life, moved quickly despite the weight he carried.
A journey that would have taken Nicole four days on her own, they managed to complete over half in just a day and a half.
They traveled during the night and rested during the day to steer clear of wild animals. Once they found a safe spot, they settled down to sleep. Exhausted, Nicole fell asleep almost immediately.
Meanwhile, back at the senior man’s mountain hut, unexpected visitors had arrived.
The leader, wrapped in a black jacket and wearing a crisp crew cut, appeared both handsome and stern.
Just then, Alec called out, “Sir, could this be your wife’s bracelet?”
Jarrod took the bracelet, inspected it closely, and replied, “Yes, it definitely is.”
Still uncertain, Alec asked, “Sir, how can you be so sure?”
“Look here.” Jarrod pointed out a distinctive mark inside the bracelet and casually remarked, “It’s unmistakably hers.”
The bracelet bore the distinctive MQ Jewelry logo, its presence an anomaly in the modest surroundings of the thatched hut. Nicole, not one for ostentatious adornments, favored practical gold pieces. As a result, she had MQ Jewelry send her their latest gold creations every season.
These pieces weren’t valued solely for their weight but for their exquisite craftsmanship. Even a small item could fetch a price far surpassing that of standard gold. Yet, here lay one of these treasures, seemingly abandoned in the rustic confines of the hut.
Jarrod’s brow furrowed in concern as he spoke in a hushed tone. “We need to find out where Nicole went, and fast.”
Alec nodded in agreement, his expression resolute. “Understood.”
Accompanied by their trained hunting dogs, they swiftly picked up a scent and set off deeper into the rugged expanse of the mountains.
Observing Jarrod’s determination to join them, Alec hesitated before speaking up, concern evident in his voice. “Sir, maybe we should take a breather? You’ve barely had a proper rest in 72 hours except for that short nap in the car. Your body can’t keep this up!”
Jarrod, distinct in his manner from the rest, didn’t share their ability to easily doze off during car rides. Instead, he merely furrowed his brow lightly, appearing as though he hadn’t slept well, likely due to the weight of his concerns.
Unlike Alec and the others, who seemed carefree, there was a visible strain on Jarrod’s face.
Despite Alec’s plea, Jarrod’s resolve remained unyielding. “No rest. We press on.”
Their gathered intel suggested Nicole wasn’t in immediate peril, but the fact that she had abandoned her bracelet hinted at potential trouble. While the mountain dwellers might not recognize the bracelet’s true worth, its value as gold wasn’t lost on them.
Jarrod couldn’t shake the nagging unease this realization brought, rendering rest an impossibility.
Recognizing Jarrod’s unwavering determination, Alec swiftly consumed two pieces of jerky, washed down with a gulp of water, before falling back into step behind Jarrod.
With their robust physicality and the keen tracking abilities of their canine companions, they continued their brisk pursuit.
Meanwhile, after a strenuous journey, Nicole and the senior man finally arrived at the base of Witch Valley.
Nicole gazed up at the imposing peak, its silhouette standing out among the surrounding peaks. Witch Valley possessed a distinctive shape, resembling a mystical creature poised to ascend to the heavens.
However, the mountain’s picturesque appearance belied the malevolent activities that lay concealed within its depths.
Sensing Nicole’s apprehension, the senior man came to a halt, choosing not to venture any further for now. Finding a sturdy tree root to perch upon, he retrieved his pipe, lighting it with deliberate care before taking a leisurely drag.
Nicole’s anxiety mounted as she pondered Roscoe’s fate, uncertain of the dangers he might face if he had indeed been captured. Eager to press onward, she moved to continue, only to be halted by the senior man, who gently blocked her path.
“Patience, my dear,” the senior man said slowly. “Let me finish this smoke, and then we shall proceed together.” Nicole, though gripped by anxiety, found solace in the senior man’s composed demeanor, compelling her to exercise patience.
As the senior man savored his pipe, his tranquil demeanor remained unshaken, his gaze fixed upon the secret location of the hidden witch clan within the valley.
At last, he extinguished his pipe, rising to his feet with deliberate slowness and brushing off his attire. “Let’s proceed,” he announced calmly.