If only time would go by faster, and the villagers would tire, returning home to sleep sooner. The more Rachel Wood hoped for those things to happen, the slower time seemed to pass.

Every minute felt like a century until dawn finally arrived.

Sounds of roosters crowing around the mountainous village were like beacons of light in the darkness that gave her hope.

The entire village had grown quiet. The loud footsteps had also ceased.

Rachel knew that those people had probably grown weary, with