by Chana Keefer
Rapha glanced at Auda from the corner of his eye, noting with satisfaction that her mouth was agape and her thick-lashed eyes were narrowed as she studied the lad. But when she turned a suspicious gaze Rapha’s way, he feigned intense interest in the stag. “Eight prongs! That was no easy kill. They are skilled hunters.”
“They are disgusting! They are like boar who have groveled in filth!”
Even without the influence of a mother in her life, Auda had perfected that look of feminine disdain. In the four years since Rafe had left them she had developed into a formidable, beautiful young woman who moved with the feline grace and watchfulness of the mountain cats she admired, and had, on rare occasions, even coaxed into wary affection—when they were well-fed and not protecting their young. But, like her feline companions, she had an especially heightened sense of cleanliness, though she had an affinity for the water they could not abide. During the heat of the day she was often occupied with grooming, her flaxen curls combed to smoothness and her skin kept supple by Rapha’s shared knowledge of nature’s apothecary.
“This is foolishness to skulk in the shadows. Let us greet them.” Rapha rose.
“No!” Auda’s hand gripped the sleeve of his leather cloak.
“What do you fear?”
“I do not fear!” Her hands smoothed the thick hair secured at the nape of her neck with a narrow strip of leather, “I just have no desire to….”
“Come. They will think us unfriendly if their beast discovers us before we announce ourselves.”
At that moment a large dog with thick gray and black fur and the loping gait of a wolf emerged from the trees behind the men and paused, his nose detecting a new scent in the morning breeze.
“They are downwind. You did this on purpose,” Auda hissed.
But Rapha was already on his feet, his hand raised and a shout of greeting on his lips. Soon there was no recourse but to move forward and meet the strangers.
That day was thereafter filed among Rapha’s memories as “notably unbearable.” When introductions were made, Auda would not allow the people to grasp her forearm, their method of greeting, choosing instead to clasp her hands behind her back and ignore their outstretched hands. This strategy backfired, however, when the father mumbled his approval to Rapha for raising his daughter, “with the meekness becoming a young woman.”
Immediately, Auda’s hand had shot out to grasp the forearm of each as she forcefully introduced herself, this being the first of many ways she sought to offend their hosts. When the women, a mother and three daughters, came to greet her and subsequently referred to Rapha as her father, Auda made it clear this was not the case but made no effort to clarify the matter. Thus Rapha became the target of dark looks and when the wife found the proper opportunity to whisper in her husband’s ear, the situation became dangerous.
“Why are you here?” the man’s long knife was in his hand, and the older son, after shooing the women into the shelter, stood behind Rapha, his knife’s blade aimed at Rapha’s back.
“This is a lonely land. We seek the society and mutual protection of friendship.”
But the man was unconvinced. Blood might have been spilled if Rapha had not said with a steady voice, “You are wise to be cautious, since so few bow the knee to the One True God.”
The man’s jaw dropped in astonishment, “Few indeed! We know of only one!”
After a few piercing questions, he embraced Rapha as a newfound brother.
“I am Ochim and this is my son, Elden. You are very welcome here.”
Soon the entire family gathered to marvel at the story of Auda’s rescue while she sat just outside the shelter, refusing to enter. But when Rapha explained, “Poor child. Enclosed spaces remind her of captivity,” the group, clucking and murmuring their sympathy, rearranged the party in the open air.
Auda, looking as if she sat on a hill of ants, was forced either to be civil or to endure their pity when Rapha credited her lack of social skills to “an understandable distrust of strangers.”
In truth, if Rapha had not been so disappointed his plan was failing, he would have greatly enjoyed goading his stubborn daughter. When she refused their food, pulled away from the youngest child who fingered her hair with shining eyes, or refused to be seated next to Elden (who could not hide his admiration) Rapha would flash a look of pity and pat her hand with humiliating condescension.
But later in the evening, Ochim told stories of the homeland they left behind. The oldest daughter sang a song of their peoples’ defeat by a violent race, and the mother stepped forward in the firelight to dance, a small drum under her arm keeping rhythm as they paid tribute to the slain. The woman’s graceful movements combined like magic with the young girl’s pure voice forming the perfect key to unlock Auda’s heart.
When the dance ended, Rapha asked, “How did you learn to worship the God above all gods?”
The man’s face was thoughtful, “It was several years ago, another time such as this when a stranger came to our door. Oh! He was a sight! He was dressed in ragged animal skins, hair and beard covering most of his face. He was large so we assumed he was one of them and commanded the dog to attack—but when he got close, the beast sniffed the man’s hand and licked him. I can usually trust that animal’s instincts so I asked the man what he wanted. ‘Just some food and company,’ he said. ‘In return I will tell stories.’ And that is what he did. He spoke of a beautiful garden where the God over all gods walked and talked with him, where there was no war and even the animals dwelt in peace. ‘The lion would lie down with the lamb,’ he said.
“The more he talked, the more I wanted to believe his story was real. But then,” Ochim stared in the fire, “the story became sad. The man and his mate in the garden listened to a serpent who tricked them into betraying the God of all gods, and they had to leave that place. The man told us the only way they were protected from the evil one outside the garden was to sacrifice. ‘The blood of the animals covers us until the day the One True God restores creation through the,’ what was that word?” the man turned to his wife.
“Messiah,” she supplied.
The man looked up at Rapha, his eyes reflecting the flames of their fire, “Ever since, we have sacrificed several times a year to the One True God.”
The group was silent a moment while the fire crackled.
Finally Rapha asked, “Who was this man? What did he call himself?”
“He said he had no name,” Ochim replied, “that he was simply a wanderer with a story to tell.”
When the moon was high, Rapha and Auda took their leave. It was a silent walk, a surprise to Rapha who had expected to endure her venom at the first opportunity.
“Do you want to be rid of me?” she asked as they reached their encampment nestled beneath close-knit pines that sighed in the wind.
“Yes, if that will bring your happiness.”
“I miss Rafe.”
It was the first time she had mentioned his name in three years. Surely this was a good sign. “He would want you to be happy,” Rapha said, “to have children, to dwell surrounded by love.”
Auda was silent a moment, her eyes scanning the stars. “Is this Adonai’s plan?” She turned that piercing gaze toward him.
“I admit, I do not know for sure, but it is good for you to spend time with… those like you.”
“I don’t like them,” Auda stated, “and I am not like them. But if it makes you happy I will try to be… nice.”
Her face bore such snobbish revulsion Rapha had to laugh. “Do you consider them beneath you, my queen?”
“No!” she retorted, then hesitated. “Well, they are rather dirty and they are messy when they eat….”
“And have you been raised in marble halls?”
A faint smile lit her features, “No. Usually we had no walls to keep out the night wind and no roof to hide the stars.”
Rapha sensed her brokenness as she walked away into the shadows of the trees, but he allowed her soli
tude. This was a rite of passage she must make on her own.
He also noticed the large raven that rose on whispering wings, the same that had watched them the entire day.
One thing he knew for sure. That night, Auda’s would not be the only grieving heart.
It should have been a happy time for Auda, a time for discovering young love, for dreaming of the future, for reveling in the fact that a family was eager to open its arms and make her a part of them.
Rapha had to admit she tried. She made a valiant effort to smile at the young man, Elden, to enjoy the chatty intimacy of female friendships she had never known before. But when she would walk away looking as if a heavy burden was pulling her into the earth, Rapha would encourage her eager suitor, Elden, to honor her privacy. “She has lived free as a bird on the wind. Give her time.”
But as her smiles grew more rare and her appetite all but vanished, Rapha had misgivings. Was the most logical path truly the one to make her happy? Was this Adonai’s will or was Rapha merely encouraging what was safe?
The morning Rapha woke and Auda was gone from her bed, he feared she had fled rather than face further pressure to play the role of a love-struck young woman. His worry was short-lived, however, for soon she walked into camp, face streaked with dirt, eyes swollen and red, but lit with a fierce determination.
“I had a dream,” she announced. “A shining man told me to find Rafe. He said you could help me.”
Before Rapha could answer she continued, “He also said I would be the mother of a mighty people, redeemed and dedicated to Adonai.”
“What was his name?”
She wrinkled her brow at the question. “What?”
“The man in your dream. Did he tell you?”
“He called himself ‘Gabriel.’”
“Gabriel!” Rapha’s heart raced as memories of his former life—eons of battles, joys, and sorrows—flooded his mind.
“Why is it important to know his name?” Auda asked.
Rapha wrestled his mind back to the present, “Beauty and might are not gifted only to those whose motives are pure,” Rapha said, “but be assured, Gabriel is a faithful servant of The Most High.”
Auda burst into tears, sobbing with an intensity of emotion she had never expressed, not even as a small child who missed her mother. When the flood of hurts dammed for a lifetime had soaked Rapha’s tunic, she wiped her face and said, “I was so afraid. Afraid to believe him, afraid to hope, afraid of losing hope again, afraid you would say it was my own wishes taking form as I slept, just the dream of a foolish girl who wants what she cannot have.”
“As a rule,” Rapha felt obliged to warn as he wiped her face with his sleeve, “heavenly messengers are sent when the road ahead is especially difficult.”
“I had believed Adonai hated me. What road could be more difficult than that?”
“Did he say anything else?”
“Um, yes,” Auda wrinkled her brow and put a hand to her head, “his words were, ‘Say to my brother, Rapha, all is well with Eve. Great joy will come of her sojourn in a wicked land.’”
A wave of gratitude flooded over Rapha. His latest messengers sent to inquire about Eve had never returned.
“He called you ‘brother.’ You really were one of them once,” her eyes were wide with wonder. “I always loved your stories about life in the heavens. I would fall asleep and dream of angels and that perfect garden and all the animals and… it’s all true. There really was a garden and you were there with Adam and Eve.”
Her expression grew thoughtful, “Then the rest is true as well. Lucifer corrupted creation, Cain killed his brother and Rafe is….”
“Yes, his son. But remember, Rafe chooses his allegiance.”
As Auda fought back tears, she shook her head, amazed. “Yet Adonai says He will bless our union. ‘A mighty people redeemed and dedicated to Adonai.’”
“Yes. His will is clear.”
After a moment of silence that buzzed with her racing thoughts, Auda said, “I cannot consider joining with another, even if Rafe will not have me.”
“Unless I am mistaken, we can have his answer before sunset.” He turned to address a large raven who watched from a high branch. “Correct?”
The glossy bird rose into the air on silent wings.
“I should have known,” Auda watched the bird climb higher until he disappeared into the sun. “He has appeared every day for weeks now. He goes to Rafe?”
When Rapha nodded in answer, Auda laughed, a delightful sound that seemed to sparkle in the air around them.
Soon, however, she groaned, “What do I tell Elden and his family? They have been so kind.” Her expression brightened, “I could make him glad to release me. His patience is stretched already….” Then she clapped a hand to her mouth as understanding dawned. “That was what Rafe did the night he left. He was trying to make it easier for me.”
“How well did it work?” Rapha inquired with a smile.
She wrinkled her nose, “Not well at all.”
But Elden was pushed quickly from her mind as Auda realized Rafe was summoned, and here she was, bedraggled from her night of weeping.
Later, when darkness had once again settled over the land, a tall man with broad shoulders, a full beard and dark, curly hair, stepped into the light of their fire.
At first, Auda was wary. Rafe the boy had turned into a formidable man, even taller than she remembered.
“Auda?”
The caressing tone with which he said her name carried a myriad of questions, all of which she chose to answer by walking to stand before him and look up into his eyes. After a moment, she smiled.
“There you are,” she reached a hand toward his face. He went down on one knee and she touched the unfamiliar beard and traced the lines of care around his eyes before taking a long lock of thick hair in her fingers and tugging—hard. “What took so long?”
Then he grabbed her up in his arms and spun her around the way he used to when she was a child. But when the fit of laughter had passed, and he looked into her eyes with a much different expression than he had when she was a tormenting imp with messy, blonde curls, Rapha saw fit to intervene.
“Alright, that’s enough,” he said as he pulled Auda from Rafe’s grasp. “Unhand my daughter!”
Even then Rafe tried to convince Auda to stay with the family in the valley. He told her of his life running from those he defied, that they would not have time to sow and reap or maintain flocks, that he could not abandon those whom evil would destroy. But his eyes could not lie. He had been tortured by thoughts of her belonging to another; so when he gazed at the breathtaking young woman who vowed her devotion with the stubborn persistence of the little girl who would not be left behind, his eyes shone with the gratitude of a starving man set before a feast.
Dawn was about to break when the exhausted Auda retired, and Rafe remained, staring into the fire. “I do not dare remain in this valley. My enemies seem to find me wherever I go. In fact, the birds report that a raiding party fast approaches.”
So while Auda slept, Rafe and Rapha descended into the valley to warn the family of their danger.
Elden and Ochim looked with narrowed eyes from Rapha to the tall, handsome stranger at his side. “Where is proof of this enemy?” The boy’s hand rested on the knife at his waist. “How do we know you will not take this valley as your own?”
“Come now, Rapha is our friend, soon to be family,” the father said though he shooed the younger children behind him. “Surely we can trust his words.”
“Where is Auda?” The youngest daughter asked.
Confound the child. Rapha had hoped to delay their other news.
The father read much in Rapha’s hesitation. “If we go, Auda is with us, eh Rapha?”
“Auda goes with me,” Rafe stated.
Rapha could only shake his head as that conversation deteriorated. “Take the children inside,” Ochim ordered his wife, even as she begged him not to fight, while Elden
leapt to draw the hunting knife from a strap at his side, and the dog advanced, teeth bared.
“Where is she? What have you done to her?” Elden shouted as Rapha placed himself between the young men who faced each other like bulls ready to charge.
“Please!” Rapha shouted. “Allow me to explain!” But his words were drowned by their yells and the dog’s excited barking.
When the younger boy tossed a spear to his brother saying, “Kill the giant, Elden!” Rapha intervened, his ancient abilities disarming the boy in one blurred, instinctive movement. As the dog leapt for his throat, Rapha triggered a nerve in its neck, causing the beast to crumple to the ground, stunned.
The family looked on in shocked silence and, though Rapha’s actions had averted catastrophe, their expressions were more fearful and murderous than before.
“You are one of them!” the father roared. “Get off my land and take your giant with you!”
“Rafe can help you. He has resisted this enemy for years. At least allow us to show you the way to safety.”
“I have seen what his kind do,” the father growled. “The only giant I will trust is a dead one.”
“And I have seen the gratitude of your kind,” Rafe countered. “I fight at your side, save your women and children, and then am rewarded with your knives pointing at my back.”
As Rapha grasped Rafe’s arm and pulled him away he attempted to salvage a shred of civility. “My thanks to your family for the kindness you have shown—”
But Ochim cut him off. “Enemies descend upon us and my son has lost his mate. Be gone!”
“Rafe! You said that? No wonder he was ready to kill you,” Auda tried to appear angry at the turn of events but the report of Rafe claiming her as his own made her blush with pleasure.
Later, as they lounged beneath spreading limbs of the towering trees and watched the first stars appear, Rapha tried to speak of the fast-approaching enemy. But Rafe was deaf and blind to all but Auda. Rapha walked a few paces away to give the couple a measure of privacy. It warmed his soul to hear their murmured endearments and shared laughter. He breathed deep, grateful for the magic of young love.