Gifford stubbed out the cigarette in his hand, exhaled the last smoke and asked the girl, “What's your name?"

The girl was drawing circles on the ground with a branch. Hearing his question, she Looked up at him and said, “Chantel Rodgers."

“How old are you?”

Chantel frowned slightly, but still answered, "20."

Gifford noticed her impatience. He smirked. She looked exactly like his little sister.

"Where is your family?"

Thanks to Erica, he had developed quite an understanding of dealing with Little girls. In his opinion, there was no other girl in the world more difficult to deal with than Erica.

This time, after a pause, she replied expressionlessly, "Dead."

“Dead? ALL of them?"

"Yes."

After a short silence, Gifford asked, "What are you going to do now?"

Staring at the green military uniform he was wearing, Chantel said softly, "Bury my grandfather first; then feed his chickens at home."

"Your grandpa just died?"

"Two days ago."

“Are you going to feed the chickens for the rest of your life?"

“Well, yes. I don't know anything else. I never went to college,”

Chantel replied. She grew up in a remote village, and her family was one of the poorest in that community. She didn't have the money to attend college in the city. Her parents had passed away long ago, and she'd been taking care of her grandfather until he died two days ago.

So, she simply gave up on the idea of going to college.

After pondering this for a while, Gifford blurted out, "Do you want to go with me?"

Chantel's eyes widened in surprise.

Gifford explained to her, “Let's get out of here-the village, I mean.

I'LL help you find a place to stay. It's better than staying here and feeding chickens."

“But... I can't do anything except farm work.”

“Can you wash clothes, cook and clean?"

“Of course. I mean, yes!"