He arrived at the edge of the wood. Miles and miles of hard forest lay behind him. Wild beasts had attacked and met their end at his hands. Cliffs rose high and daunting, and he climbed them. Lacerations covered him. Filth of sweat and dirt and blood stank on him.
His soul was tired. His body was weary.
At the edge of the wood was a field. A friendly brook divided it. Sounds of delicate water flow woke his thirst and tingled his wounds.
Cautiously, he stepped from the forest, but stopped, stone still. He was not alone.
Remembering back through the months of wandering, no other person had been there. Nobody had been seen. Further back in his memory, back to the very earliest, he had not seen a figure of such striking beauty.
Sunlight shimmered in her hair. Her skin looked delicate and soft. Radiance reflected from her dress which twirled as she danced barefoot in the light.
Cowering behind a tree, he watched.
She stepped lightly to the brook and dipped in her toe. She crouched and drew water to her lips. Delicately she pulled a daisy and placed it in her hair. And then she danced again.
Her loveliness astounded him and, losing his balance, he fell with a thud.
She looked his way. "Who is there?" she said.
"No one."
"But I heard something."
"Just ignore that."
"I know you are there. Who are you?"
"No one. No one."
"You sound like someone. Step out where I can see you."
"I'd rather not."
"Please? Are you shy?"
"No. But I'm filthy."
"I don't mind. Please come out so I can see you."
"OK."
So he stood and came from behind the tree.
"Please step into the light. I want to see you."
He did. Slowly.
She observed him quietly.
"You really are very dirty."
"I know."
"And you have many wounds."
"Yes, I do."
"And your clothes are in tatters."
"Very true."
"You look thirsty."
"I am."
She held out her hand. "Come with me to the brook."
He followed without holding her hand.
"It's deepest there at the bend," she said, her dainty finger extended. "Go in."
He began to remove his shirt.
"Oh, no," she said, "There's no need to do that. Just go in as you are. You'll see."
Carefully, he waded in. Exhilaration filled each body part as it entered the water. Toes tingled with life. Knees were renewed. The water was delicately cold. He dove toward the deep spot. Every muscle sang out in relief. Every wound's pain chilled to silence. Grime pulled away by layers. He stood and breathed the clean air deeply. His clothes, now mended and new, shone in the sun.
"This is miraculous!" he said.
She laughed delicately.
"I feel marvelous!" he said.
"Yes. Isn't it wonderful?"
He walked out of the brook.
She reached out her hand to touch his, “Let’s dance,” she said. But he flinched away.
"What is the matter? Would you like to dance with me?"
"I can't dance. Not with you. I'm only a boy?"
"Oh."
"I was left in those woods to wander. I have seen and done many horrible things."
"Oh."
"I may look clean. But can't you see I'm just a boy? I cannot dance with a woman."
She smiled kindly. "Come with me," she beckoned. "Come."
She moved to a place where the water moved slowly. "Look," she said.
He looked at the water.
Looking back at him he saw familiar eyes. But they were in a face more square than he remembered. The hair was a similar color but fuller with highlights of white that glistened. Broad shoulders and broad chest replaced the narrow ones he remembered. He examined his hands. They were thick and strong.
"Did the water do this?" he said.
"No."
"Then how?'
"This is how you came from the wood."
"But not so clean."
"True. But how you are now is what I saw under your wounds and rags and grime."
"You saw this, and I did not?
"Yes."
"You saw how I was before and wasn't afraid?"
"Yes."
"How?"
Because I was once like you were. I was lost in the forest. I also saw and did many horrible things."
Because I was once like you were. I was lost in the forest. I also saw and did many horrible things."
"I don't believe you."
"This because you did not yet drink from the brook."
"But I was in there. You saw me."
"I saw you bathe. You did not drink. Please. Drink."
He crouched, dipped his hand, and drank.
Joy filled him. It shot through him. The sky grew more deeply blue. Clouds were more radiantly white. Grass brightened its green, and delicate songs came from the trees.
“Goodness,” he said, “Goodness. What is this place?”
“This is the place he made for us. This is where we were meant to be.”
“Who is he?”
“I don’t fully know yet.”
“I would like to stay here.”
“And I would like you to stay here.”
He held out his hand. “Will you dance with me?”
She hesitated. “Are you sure?”
“You were dancing alone before.”
“Yes, I was.”
“Would you rather dance alone?”
“No.”
“Then dance with me. I will lead.”
“Do you know how to dance?”
“No.”
“Then how will you lead?”
“Simply pay attention to what you need and stay one step ahead.”
She smiled broadly. “You may step on my toes.”
“Very true.”
“We may trip and fall.”
“That is possible, too.”
“I am sometimes clumsy.”
“So am I. But if we fall and get dirty, we will simply go back in the brook. If we are discouraged we will drink deeply again.”
“Then I will dance with you,” she said, and took his hand.
They twirled and bowed and tripped and drank and bathed and danced all through the day.
Suddenly, she stopped.
“What is it?” he said.
“I saw something move. Just over there.”
He looked. There was a child. Filthy. Bleeding. They walked hand in hand to the forest. He crouched.
“Don’t be afraid, little one. You have come to a good place.”
“It looks nice here, mister,” said the child. “May I stay?”
“Yes,” he said. And he said to the woman, “Will you clean the child?”
“I would love to,” and she did.
He stood at the edge of the wood, watching the woman and child. He also gazed deeply into the forest, looking as if he was very concerned.
The woman came back with the child clean and radiant and joyful. “See how clean and full of joy?” she said.
“Delightful,” he said, then picked up the child and kissed its cheek.
“Then why are you less full of cheer? Do you need another drink?”
“Possibly,” he said. “But that is not what bothers me.”
“Then what does?”
He sighed deeply. “I came from far across the forest, and so did you. Now this child comes to us. I think there could be more.”
“Yes. There probably are.”
“Seeing you and the child, now so clean and joyous causes me to remember how frightened we were in the forest.”
“Yes. Me, too.”
“There is plenty of water here for many, many more just like us.’
“Yes, there is.”
“Men and women and children.”
“I believe they are out there.”
“I think we should go find them.”
She blanched. “What about the child?”
“The child will come with us.”
“What about the sun? There is no sun in there.”
“We will climb to the tops of trees and cut away the branches.”
“What about water? There is no healing water.”
“We will bring some with us. When we run out we will come back to refill.”
“And what about the beasts?”
“I fought many alone. So did you, and so did the child. If we are together, no beast will stand a chance against us.”
“I see,” she said. “And as we find other men, women, and children, our strength will grow.”
“Yes.”
“And many will see the light and drink the water.”
“Yes.”
“And you will lead us.”
“Yes.”
“Then I will go with you.”
They furnished a way to carry the water. They furnished a way to cut the branches. And they went.
