They had walked for hours, passing village after village and stopping to talk to nobody. They didn’t even stop to eat or rest. They would carry on and they would make it. They had walked for so long they felt they might never make it but the thought about the Old Bull, the raging fire and the cold mugs of frothy ale served by the every jolly Michael O’Reilly, slapping everyone on the back as only he could and putting smile back on the face of everyone in the tavern.
This drove them on. They had said nothing to each other for the last two hours and yet had said so much. Some things just didn’t need saying yet both parties heard it loud and clear and understood all to well what the other was thinking.
It had been a hard three months. There was no mistaking that. They would be right, they had been so right yet they had been wrong and moreover, they had been wronged. They would deal with that. The would settle that score an they would do so with purpose and make no mistake. Tomorrow, the revenge they would serve would be cold and it would be sweet.
Tonight, they rounded the last bend and faced home. The puddles had almost dried up after the storm and the warm and inviting lights were all around. Sometimes you just need to stop, take stop and speak to the people who know your name, who know the truth and who know you.
…and sometimes, in good time, you need to pack the necessary and right the wrongs of yesterday. Tomorrow would know what yesterday never expected and then some…