The following days brought the first real proof of Rodrigo and his companions' new journey. Crossing the backlands, the arid trails and hostile landscape made the path lonely and silent. The sun punished mercilessly, and even with the newfound energy, physical fatigue began to weigh on them.
Rodrigo, however, did not stop. There was something inside him that urged him forward, as if a silent call echoed in his mind. The wind carried murmurs, memories of times gone by, and he knew that, somewhere ahead, he would find an important part of his past.
In the late afternoon, they saw a small village in the distance. The mud and straw houses lined up around a single dirt road, and the smell of burning wood filled the air. It was not a place on the map of big cities, but for Rodrigo, that place awakened a strange familiarity.
"I've been here before," he said, breaking the silence as they approached.
Olavo glanced sideways. "Here? It doesn't seem like the kind of place you'd visit by chance."
Rodrigo didn't answer right away. As they got closer, memories came flooding back. He recognized the people, the gestures, the simplicity of that life. The small village was more than a stopover; it was home to a piece of his past.
As they entered the village, they were greeted by suspicious looks. The people, though simple, knew that strangers rarely brought good news. An elderly woman, sitting on the doorstep of a house, looked at Rodrigo with surprised eyes.
"Rodrigo..." she murmured, as if she had seen a ghost.
Rodrigo stopped, surprised to be recognized. The woman stood up slowly, her eyes full of memories. "You're back, after so long."
He stared at her, the past finally revealing itself. "Dona Maria... what happened here?"
The woman smiled sadly. "The same thing that happens everywhere. The war came, and our people suffered the consequences. But you... maybe you arrived in time to make a difference."
Rodrigo felt the weight of her words, and in that moment, he realized that his journey was not just about the future, but about settling accounts with the past.