The problem was water, so rare to find any safe enough to drink. So we kept moving, kept hoping the next place would be the spot. A place we could find all we need, to settle, safely. Hoping just maybe this time.
Walking for long periods of time can often lead to reflection. So for vast portions of time we walked in silence. Pairs and singles, carts and creatures, dogs, horses, even an alpaca.
There were children with us, of course, who, for the most part, kept together during the days, as children do.
The nights held singing; and now and then, should new love or new life be born, even dancing.
No matter how hard things seemed, or how tempting the idea of giving up became, suddenly the river of children would mob by in laughter, or rainbows after raging storms might fill the sky, and somehow tired bones lightened, heavy hearts lifted, just that little bit more to keep sore feet walking. Ever on. To water. To a new home.
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