by Erin Lorence
“The way Sam bam appeared, then whoa disappeared. Hey!” She clutched my arm.
“Please quit touching me.”
“But, Dove. Don’t you see? He’s an angel! Sent from heaven to help us. It totally makes sense if you stop and think about it.”
For the rest of the day, I kept my eyes peeled for Samuel while we hiked through the wilderness paralleling the strip of road labeled Highway 20. But he never showed.
And no matter what I told her, Melody remained hung up on her crazy idea that we’d had a run-in with a heavenly being sent to help us.
I stopped arguing. But I didn’t buy it. Something about Samuel convinced me he was as human as I was.
17
I wiggled my numb toes inside my shoes. In the predawn gray, I made out the motionless lump of Melody beside me, sleeping under the silvery, taped-together sheets I both loved and hated.
I loved the way they kept me from dying of hypothermia. Loved their weightlessness, and they took up zero room in my pack. I hated the way they made each of our sleep sounds—leg twitches, nose scratches—sound like prowlers stomping in dry leaves.
I bolted upright and pulled my own off with a crackle. I filled my lungs with the smoky air. It clawed at my throat.
I leaped to the ground and scrambled over to last night’s miniscule campfire we’d used to cook our trout. The red mud and ash slop felt ice cold under my fingertips.
Five seconds later, I was back under our tent that dangled a-third of the way up a tree. Holding a broken tree limb, I nudged the sagging bottom section.
A frenzy of rustling above startled a passing chipmunk so much it ran over my shoe. Melody’s deer eyes squinted down. “Whew. It’s you.”
I waved the branch. “Smoke.”
She broke off mid-yawn. “Mmm? It’s OK. Won’t hurt us. At least, not meant to.” Her head disappeared like a turtle retracting into its shell.
I headed toward the trickle of a stream. This time two trout waited for me in the shadowy spot.
While we ate, the sun emerged over the tree-covered slope that filled the eastern horizon and within minutes revealed every pine needle. But to the west, Mount Washington remained fuzzy and indistinct, veiled by the dingy cloud that clung to it. A solid plume of gray rose steadily from the peak’s dark green base.
I gestured at it and added my remaining fish to Melody’s. No longer hungry.
She shoveled it in with both hands and chewed mechanically, her eyes on the horizon. “I don’t like it, but it doesn’t feel like it’s anything that’s going to hurt us. Like, not from an attacker or nothing. You know?”
“Hurry and finish up, Melody.”
Hugging myself against the morning chill and the dread that life was about to get more uncomfortable, I packed up my tent. By the time I erased every sign of our campout, Melody had sucked the fish juice off her fingers. And I was ready to shoulder my pack and face west—toward the mountain that continued to smolder.
~*~
We are taking way too long.
The constant thought nagged at me. It chipped away at my faith in a way nothing else in my life ever had.
Too long. Too long.
The warrior had given up on us by now. That is, if he’d even known we were coming to begin with, which had never been clear. Either way, he’d taken off for Mount Jefferson—and the Council—on his own. Without us.
Yet, because I couldn’t force my cowardly self to say this to Melody, we plodded forward. Continuing on this now pointless detour to Mount Washington.
It didn’t matter anymore that we’d passed the brilliant jade lake into the burned-out foothills where evidence of fires was everywhere—some decades-old fires, and others much more recent. We were going to miss the Council meeting. Or maybe we’d missed it yesterday, or were missing it right this second.
It had to be September by now. The destroyed trees told me nothing, but the chill of the thick air and the darkness that fell earlier each day, both promised early autumn.
For the thousandth time, my fingers smoothed the plastic-bagged prayer results against my leg. Again, I prayed my apology for failing.
My arms pulled my body up the slope using the chalky-white trunks whose branches would never sprout green again.
If only I’d left my home two weeks earlier. But how could I have known about the ravine with undercut sides we’d had to cross? Or that it would take us four days to figure out how?
Or the black bear. How could I have guessed he’d settle under our tree tent one morning before even the birds were awake. He hadn’t moved until the next evening. Well, other than to rear up on his hind legs with those curved, brown claws against our trunk. The grunting noises he’d made at our feet, sniffing to make sure we hadn’t escaped.
I’d heard Satan whooping that whole thirty-six hours.
Say it, Dove. Move your cowardly lips. “Melody, it’s too late. The warrior’s gone on without us. And we’re never going to make it in time to deliver our families’ results.
“Oh, and I sort of never told you this, but because I’ve failed, both our families are going to die in some freaky, bloody way that only God knows. And some others will die too. But don’t worry about being an orphan because we’ll never survive this forest fire we’re heading into. Either that or we’ll be eaten by the next demon bear Satan sends our way.”
I heard a snarl. A clicking snap of teeth.
Bear! But I lurched away from a skinny boxer dog. Tethered to a downed log a few feet away, its threatening rumble escaped its bared teeth.
I hauled Melody upright and ran past the faded green tarp. The savage barking faded in the hazy twilight. Panting, we collapsed onto the warm ground.
“Sorry. My bad.” Her ragged voice sounded used up.
“Then we have to stop for the night. Since you’ve proven you can’t sense danger anymore.” Everything—not only running into the dog without warning—had become her fault now. “You’re giving up. Choosing to be weak and not using your gift. So stop it. It doesn’t count that we’re close. Close isn’t good enough. Close means we lose. And if the warrior’s still around here somewhere, we need to be focused on where he’ll be waiting.”
My “if” seemed to echo in the too-silent woods. And I wasn’t ready for that conversation. “I mean, we can’t stumble around this whole mountain blindly searching. C’mon. Think. Where?”
Where? Where?
I got no reply.
The heels of her hands screwed into her eye sockets. “It’s this smoke. If it’d only clear out for one minute. It’s leeching through my eyeballs into my cranium. Everything’s all smudgy and unreal, you know?”
I swiped at my own streaming tears with my tunic. “Quit thinking about it. C’mon. Where’ll he be waiting? Should we find a campground? Or a hiking trail?”
But I’d ruled out both options days ago. A Christian—no matter how capable—wouldn’t hang out on the pagans’ groomed turf.
I shook my head. “Forget it. It’s dumb.”
“So, then, we’ll follow the smoke.” She mumbled this into her fur collar—only half conscious, judging by her body’s slump.
My gray cells struggled in my tainted oxygen supply, turning her words over. “Huh? What’s that mean, ‘follow the smoke?’ Melody. Wake up.”
“Mmm? What?” She jerked. Then she shrugged and resumed her slump. “It seems like... shouldn’t we find where it’s coming from? Forget it. Sorry.”
“No. Wait a sec.” I squeezed my eyes shut and listened for the small voice that guided me so well. At least, when I paid attention.
My lids snapped open. “You’re right! It’s the smoke. It is for us after all. But not something dangerous. It’s for us to follow like a trail. Follow the smoke! He set the fire! And if it’s still burning, even a little, he might still be there too.”
Thank You, Jesus! Every step of the way, You provide. I love You!
More than you can fathom. The silent reply set goose bumps racing down my
arms and legs.
“I’m coming, warrior,” she sang into her cupped hands. “Hold tight. Don’t give up on me.” She released her message into the smoky air the way my mother does a bird. Flinging it up and on its way.
Even before I lumbered onto my feet, she’d shouldered her bag and was striding off through an impossible nettle patch that’d somehow avoided the last fire. “Let’s do this.”
~*~
A darkness of a Dead Night fell when we stumbled out from between the last of the ruined trees. The sooty blanket had eclipsed the quarter moon hours ago, leaving us blind.
Arms extended, fingers splayed, I patted and gripped the pieces of vertical rock in front of us—the true base of Mount Washington, I guessed. It was the first thing I’d felt in forever that wasn’t charcoal or crumbled ash.
We have a smoker back home. The rabbit meat that comes out of it is brown, crusty, and shrunken. That was probably what my lungs looked like now. Twin slabs of smoked meat.
“Which way?” I tried to say the words, but I started to hack so hard my head drifted like the warm ash that resettled with each step.
Melody gripped my fingers. Still coughing, I floated after. My left hand trailed over the rough mountain next to me, never leaving it.
She must’ve chosen the right direction, though, because the air got thicker. And we followed the smoke to find the warrior.
I could breathe again. A hard slap of untainted breeze sailed down the mountainside and whisked away the smothering cloud.
While I pulled my collar down from my mouth and gulped in pure oxygen, I studied the orange flicker in the distance. A contained bonfire? We hadn’t crossed paths with active wildfire in all our searching. Surely the out-of-control fire threat was out by now. Wasn’t it?
Lord?
“Safe, Dove. Safe, safe, safe. That’s him ahead. The warrior. I know it.”
I removed my hand from her clutch. “Maybe.”
Lord, is it? Is it him?
“Stealth mode, Melody. I’m not sure yet.”
“But it is!”
“Maybe.”
As we crept nearer the campfire’s glow, I began to make out shapes. Two people sat. No, three. No. Two, because one of them was gigantic. Big enough for two.
A few steps closer…
Both strangers reclined against a fallen log or boulder, facing us. They didn’t appear to see or hear us yet. Their beards tilted down while they relaxed their arms against kneecaps.
We inched forward. But the moment the edges of firelight illuminated the terrain under our feet, Melody did the most lamebrain thing ever.
She bolted. Straight at the strangers.
“Wait!” I grabbed at her and captured air.
She swung around—either because she’d heard me or to let me lead. It didn’t matter why. Never in my life had I wished so hard I’d never met Melody Brae.
My foot caught one of hers planted in my path, and I lunged forward. My stomach slammed down on the hard ground, missing the fire. “Oof!”
My line of vision was now level with two pairs of leather-clad feet, way larger than my own and smudged with black. I stared at those shoes.
Lifting my gaze, I discovered neither stranger had moved, except, of course, that they watched me now. Weirdly, neither seemed startled that I’d appeared out of nowhere sprawled at their feet—although the smaller one might have grinned. Not with his mouth—that stayed a noncommittal line in his thin beard. But with his eyes.
“Sorry.” Melody’s hand knocked against my hair when I glared up.
The firelight reflected off her deer eyes.
I followed her stare and then cringed against the ground, flattening myself like a cornered hare.
The giant had sprung to his feet so lightning quick and soundless I’d missed it. His bulk now towered over me. Giant—the word defined him. He made Gilead seem normal sized. Runty even.
I flinched away from the hand extended down to me.
“E-hem.”
The fake cough came from the twiggy guy still reclining.
A millisecond later the giant resumed his place against the log. One hand divided and smoothed the dark blonde strands of his Adam’s-apple length beard.
Gilead had developed that same childish habit the first few months his facial hair grew enough to fiddle with. A habit he’d long ago dropped.
My suspicious gaze roamed back to the cougher, who, like his larger companion, I discovered couldn’t be much older than me.
Wide-set in his angular face, his blue eyes didn’t laugh anymore. Under their façade of laziness, they scorched a path taking in my ash-flecked hair, sliding loose from its coil. The lopsided breastplate of my streaked shirt. The way I shoved myself back onto my feet with one arm.
“Ahh,” he spoke in Amhebran, inclining his head at me. “That’s why it took you so long.”
18
I jerked myself out of Melody’s excited grip and strode back into the darkness toward the smoke.
“Why’s your elbow bandaged?”
I froze mid stomp and touched my long sleeve hiding the thin layer of moss wrapped around my healing elbow.
“And who did that to your face?”
I faced the fire, but that question wasn’t for me. His gaze held Melody’s while he mimicked his own tanned cheekbone.
Hers held the last stage of a bruise that’d never been impressive. By now it was the faintest yellow, impossible to see under the layer of patchy soot—a complete opposite of my own face, still a mess of scrapes and swollen areas that couldn’t be hidden. I knew. I’d seen my damaged reflection clear enough on the lake’s surface.
“I understand your reservation and caution. Both are essential to our survival as well. So don’t worry, Song Bird.” He nodded at Melody. “I won’t take your silence personally. I get how worn out you are—you too, Dove of Peace. It’s too bad you had to travel all the way to Mount Washington. It would’ve been much fairer for us to have met in the middle somewhere.”
I crossed my arms. “How…do you know…who I am?”
He slung an arm over the log behind him. “I’m right, then. It’s Dove of Peace, or, perhaps you go by Dove? Stone and I’ve been sitting here for a long time—which we’ll assume isn’t your fault, so don’t storm off--trying to puzzle out other interpretations for the vision that kept us waiting.”
“Vision?”
“Yes, Dove. A vision’s like a dream. Something you see and by faith believe—”
I gritted my teeth. “What was your vision?”
“An image of two birds flying our way. A white one grasped an olive branch and trailed a smaller bird who sang the same beautiful trill over again.”
I heard my partner’s sharp intake. “A melody?”
He clutched his forehead. “Melody. How dense of me not to have pieced that one together. The ‘melody’ bird of my friend’s dream also possessed the uncanny ability to locate and reroute around predator hawks. Long before the hawks could sight it.”
I cleared my throat. “Before we break into applause that you know all about us, how about you tell us who you are? I was told to meet ‘the warrior’ at this spot. I heard nothing about two people. You called him ‘Stone.’” The large hand twisting beard paused. “So who are you?”
“Reed.” The skinny talker shrugged, intent on Melody, whose eyes were glued to giant Stone. The latter didn’t raise his from his shoes.
“Ah! Yes.” Reed clapped his companion’s wide shoulder. “Behold. The perfect warrior specimen, wouldn’t you say, Melody? He’s tall enough for you?”
“Y-yes.”
“And muscled enough? A warrior’s got to be robust.”
“Oh, um...yes?” Her voice sounded strange to me. Kind of breathless. Relieved? No. Happy. “Yes, yes of course.”
“And let’s see. What else do we like about our warrior? Ah. His quick reflexes! Don’t you think, Melody, when he moves—”
“Cut it out!” I lurched in front of her w
ith arms spread wide as if to block her from Reed’s next question. “Melody, don’t answer. He’s playing you. Stone isn’t the warrior. Reed is. So lay off her.”
“You knew?”
I didn’t answer Reed. I staggered from the intensity of my own reaction—the out-of-the-blue defensiveness that’d reared up inside. Like I couldn’t stand for anyone to crush Melody. I’d had to shield her. Had to. And, well, shielding wasn’t normal for me, unless it involved defending my Lord. And only because I loved Him so much.
Reed shifted against the log. “I meant to demonstrate the irony of God’s workmanship. In other words, it was a joke. A bad one. Sorry, Melody. It’s true, though. God made me the ‘warrior’ of the family. Even if he gave Stone the body for it.”
“But not the smarts.” Stone flashed a one-second smile. Then he ducked his head while his ears and forehead glowed pink in the firelight. “Observation. Intuition. Strategizing. Those are Reed’s babies. I’m terrible at figuring things out.”
“Well, my smarts are observing we’re getting smoked out since the wind’s changed. So...” Reed rose to his feet, causing Melody to clutch my arm and gasp. “Let’s head to where we can breathe for the night.”
“You’ve got…” For once in my life, I bit back the words that nearly flung themselves off my tongue.
You’ve got a deformed foot. And a short, twisted leg, warrior Reed. You, warrior, are lame, damaged, and weaker than I am.
And you’ve got a monster bobcat behind you.
Dumb to say since they’d been leaning against it. That log behind them—yeah, not a log—but the largest bobcat I’d ever seen. And I’ve seen more than a couple in my sixteen years.
“I’ve got what?” Reed turned to face me squarely. His lazy-lidded features had transformed to challenge, promising his readiness to tangle with anything—or anyone—who stood against him. To conquer or die trying.
I glanced at the cat that stretched and swiped a stubby paw over its black tufted ear. It settled at the warrior’s side like I’ve seen dogs do with their pagan masters.
I pointed to the huge pile of pulsating red embers and blackened rubble. “You’ve got to extinguish that.”