The stones rang with laughter, the sound of bells and shouts from women so lonely they felt they would never be whole again. Battles had raged for five years, not a man remained in the village. On nights flush with drunken soldiers from foreign countries chickens and pigs were slaughtered, family quilts used for tents. Now, now, their men were only ten miles out, physically and mentally broken and bent. But these women were prepared, for they adored their men and no-longer-boys. Mattresses had been stuffed with chicken feathers, broth stewed from pig bones, love stitched into every new quilt.
Up From the Ashes 