The nun looked at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, instead of relief, she let out a soft sigh.
“Father,” she said quietly, “if that were truly the answer, the world would never suffer.”
Her words lingered in the dry desert air. The priest slowly lowered his head, the reality of their situation pressing down harder than before. Hunger, thirst, and fear had driven them to a strange moment—but it hadn’t changed anything.
After a pause, the nun adjusted her robe and looked out across the endless dunes. “What we need isn’t that,” she continued. “We need water, shelter… and faith.”
The priest nodded, humbled. “You’re right, Sister. I let desperation speak for me.”
They gathered what little strength they had left and decided to walk—step by step, leaning on each other for support. The sun began to dip, painting the sky in shades of orange and gold.
Hours passed. Just when their legs threatened to give out, the nun stopped and pointed ahead.
In the distance, barely visible, was a small structure—an old desert outpost.
Hope returned, not from impulse or illusion, but from perseverance.
And together, they kept walking toward it.
