Another challenge from the lovely Gater101, the godmother of fiction :D
Again write a ficlette with 1 line of dialogue from the image of the following line:
Love is like war: Easy to begin but hard to end
She couldn't believe she'd agreed to come. This wasn't the place for a woman, at least not one afraid of bugs-they were everywhere. But this was her sacrifice to be with him, and she decided she could get used to it.
The huts were grouped along one side of the camp and curved round slightly at each end. There was a large pit dug out especially for cooking and a small scuffed area where the children played. The local children had adopted Charlie into their clan from day 1 pretty much, her fair skin and freckles being somewhat of a novelty over here. Now that fairness was slowly deepening into a tan that no sun block would stop, and her light brown hair was lightening in the sunshine to an almost white blonde.
She lay down on the thin bed and rested her feet on the pillow. The heat was insistent and there was never any breeze to cool the sweat that literally poured off her night and day. Surely she would get used to it soon; the others never seemed bothered as they went about their daily business. She longed for a day when she could sit in on their chats, when she could go with them to the river to wash the clothes, when she could feel included as part of a group instead of being 'the American'.
Sighing, she pulled herself off the bed and trudged towards the bathroom, stopping on the way to check on her little girl's nap time. Sure everything was ok; she slipped under the shower with a groan. This had to be the best way to cool down.
The shots rung out miles away but still made her jump. They were here to help but all too often they were too late to do anything but hear their last words. The worst was children caught between the two troops. Only yesterday a little girl, barely 2, had come in almost completely stripped of flesh on her right side because a soldier had thrown a bomb out when he saw the movement. He shot himself that night…it was his daughter.
Mickey started mewing as she scrambled out of the rickety shower tray. Wrapping a towel around her body she scampered into his room and scooped him up, holding him close to her chest and whispering to him until his cries died down and he attached himself to his pacifier.
This place wasn't meant for women, nor was it meant for children. But every day she began to love the little hut they lived it, the fires where they cooked, the mixture of races, religions and occupations. Every day she thanked God she had been given the chance to at least try and save lives. Maybe this place wasn't meant for her, but she couldn't imagine living anywhere else.
She looked up at the sound of his voice.
"Abby, Charlie's up. Wanna go for a walk?" She nodded, handing the baby to John and diving into the only clean clothes she owned.
As they walked along the bank of the river, with a child on each hand, Abby knew she was home.