"Mike, when will we see Mother and Father again?"
A frail girl asked timidly and grabbed the corner of a boy's clothes tightly in the desolate wilderness. She looked ahead in horror. The sky was dark and the land was boundless, as if there were only the two of them. They were very lonely.
"Right in front. We're almost there..." The boy held an axe and pursed his cracked lips. He was stubborn and resilient, but his immature face was covered in mud and his skin was dull. He kept walking forward, but deep within his eyes was a vacant look of helplessness.
"Do they still remember us?" The girl was very exhausted.
"Definitely," the boy said.
"Do they miss us?" the girl wondered.
"They've been waiting for us," the boy pointed out.
"Mike, I'm so tired," the girl said.
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