The desert took every last one of them." The weight of that settled heavy in Cole's chest. 22 Widows, no grown men left, just elders and little ones. "I'm sorry," he said, and meant it. "Your sorrow won't bring them home," Tala replied. Not harsh, just honest in a way that left no room for comfort.
"But maybe your strength can help us with something else." She led him to the edge of the camp where the ground rose toward jagged mountains. Cole followed her gaze as she pointed toward a distant peak, half hidden in drifting clouds. "Up there," she said, "lies the treasure of our ancestors." She spoke like it was more than gold. "Jewelry, silver tools, sacred things passed down longer than I can remember. When we saw the drought coming, we hid them in a cave to keep them safe." Cole narrowed his eyes.
"And what went wrong?" "The rains came late," Tala said, letting out a slow breath. "Too late and too hard. Floods tore the mountain apart. The path collapsed. Boulders the size of houses sealed the way," Tala said, her voice steady but heavy.
"Our young men are brave, but they don't have the strength or the knowledge to move something like that. We've tried three times. The last time, we nearly lost two of them." Cole Maddox narrowed his eyes, studying the mountain in the distance. He'd spent years working the mines before becoming the man he was now. He knew stone.
He knew mountains, and he knew how to shift what most folks thought couldn't be moved at all. "That treasure," he asked carefully, "what does it mean to you?" Tala met his gaze without hesitation. "It means we live," she said. "Without it, we have nothing to trade when winter comes. No trade means no food.
And no food She didn't finish. She didn't have to. Cole gave a slow nod. He understood the part left unsaid all too well. "I can try," he said at last.
"I've moved rock before. I've worked places where one wrong move meant getting buried alive. Give me the right tools and a few young men willing to learn, and I can bring it back." For the first time, Tala smiled. It was small, worn down by years, but it was real. "Then rest tonight, Cole Maddox," she said.
"At first light, you'll need every ounce of strength you've got. And maybe, just maybe, the mountain spirits will show mercy to a stranger who came when we needed him most." That night, lying beneath a sky scattered with cold stars, his belly full for the first time in days, Cole couldn't stop thinking about them, the river women, and the cautious hope in their eyes. He didn't know it yet, but by saying yes, he'd just changed the course of his life. Dawn broke in streaks of orange and violet when Cole woke. Sleep hadn't come easy.
Tala's words had circled his mind all night like restless birds in a cage. 22 Widows, a lost treasure, a mountain that had beaten even their strongest. When he stepped out of the lodge they'd given him, five young men were already waiting. None of them looked older than 16 or 17. Their faces were hard, too hard for boys their age.
Life had taken their youth early. "I'm Koda," said the tallest, his tone balanced between respect and challenge. These are Takai, Mato, Chayton, and Sani. Tala says you know how to get the treasure back. We know the mountain." Cole studied them one by one.
Lean, tough, built by a hard life. Their eyes carried something sharp, a mix of hope and doubt. They didn't trust him yet, and he couldn't blame them. "Before we head up," Cole said calmly, "I need to know exactly what we're walking into. Tell me everything.