The village's eldest, Sandyman, puffed on his pipe, but not a trace of smoke emerged. Under his deeply furrowed brow, a pair of eyes stared off into the distance, not watching the tobacco in his pipe, which held no spark at all. He gently tapped the pipe, and the fine tobacco was mercilessly dumped onto the ground. "Sithock, can you guarantee that the land and sunlight there are better than here?"
"How could I deceive everyone!" Sithock patted his chest, "I personally investigated this information, and I trust the person who informed me about it."
"I still feel uneasy." Sandyman was reluctant to leave his land: "It's too far away, let's wait a little longer..."
Murmurs began to spread, differing opinions clashing like two battling tides in the small house. At this moment, no one could claim their view was correct, but neither could they accuse the other's of being wrong. Worries about the future completely shattered the peace here.
