Devotionals
I drew a deep, ragged breath as I stumbled up the steep forest path. When my guide had appeared what seemed like eons ago, I thought I had a companion to stand by my side throughout the dark journey. Lately, though, the path had grown treacherous and I often lost sight of my guide. Thorns and bristles protruded outward across the narrow road. Sometimes, I managed to duck under prickly branches, but at other times I had to hack and cut my way through the twisted overgrowth.
Fortunately, my guide had provided a scythe for such occasions. I could be thankful for that, at least. I gripped the blade tight in my left hand to reassure myself that it remained at my side. It had recently proved invaluable in cutting through a nasty mess of weeds that had blocked my path.
As I trudged onward, however, the scythe grew heavier. I began to see wisdom in dropping the blade if only to ease the burden on my battered body. Wearied by the uneven terrain and the continuing need to hack through noxious overgrowth, I despaired of ever emerging from the forest and its ever-present dangers. The steep climb that followed my battle with the entangling weeds threatened to undo me. My guide had disappeared from sight and I could only place one foot in front of the other and continue my trek.
Just then, I crested the hill to find a lush valley spread out below me. The dark, twisted trees had vanished, replaced with lush green foliage that stood spaced far enough apart to let the sun burst through. After so many days spent laboring under a virtually opaque canopy of leaves, the sight of the sun’s rays seemed like life itself had burst into view before my very eyes. “Haha,” I cried joyously.
An answering laugh drew my attention to the bottom of the hill. My guide stood there with arms opened wide, seeming eager to welcome me to the paradise that waited below. “My guide, my guide,” I called, “I thought you had forsaken me.”
The sun, though it did not quite reach I where he stood, heated the air such my padded vest seemed unnecessary. I stripped off the vest and outer pants that had been given to me to protect against sharp bushes and thorns and raced down the hill toward my guide. As I ran, the thought came to him that I wouldn’t need a blade where I was going. The scythe had become light as a feather, yet who needed a weapon down in that lush valley? I threw the sword by the wayside and continued his race to the bottom of the hill.
The forest’s ceiling drew back and the sun shot through the gaps in the foliage. It latched onto my head, sending rivulets of sweat running down my face. I wiped the sweat away casually, reveling in the chance to run free after picking my way through the treacherous landscape previously.
Closer now, my guide stood before me. Though at first the light that perpetually shone around my guide had made it difficult to discern his features, slowly my eyes had adjusted as I spent more time traveling with him. I saw my guide more clearly with each passing day. A man of middling height with a remarkably ordinary face aside from a hooked nose, my guide wore a strange expression now. He appeared to frown at me now from the bottom of the hill. Could he be displeased with me?
I laughed. It must be a trick of the sun. How could anyone be upset in such a glorious setting? My feet hardly seemed to strike the ground as I raced down the hill. The climb up the hill had been steep, but the descent declined gradually and stretched for hundreds of feet before me. To my left and right, the land grew lusher with each passing stride. The gurgling of a nearby brook sang in my ears and I could not help but glance sideways now and then to view the marvelous scenery that surrounded me.
As I thought to turn my head to gaze more fully at the beauty of the valley around me, an obstacle appeared before me. The pure smoothness of the road that had led down to the heart of the valley ended abruptly with a large, apparently misplaced tree root that threatened to slow my descent. The massive root extended from some unknown source, yet stood several feet in height and traversed the breadth of the road.
A frown creased my brow at the sight of the root, but I would not to let the obstruction slow my descent! I sped up, planted my hands on the root and leaped over it.
Ahhhh! I cried as my feet came crashing down on the other side of the root. Pain ripped through my thigh, and the world turned white in a haze of agony. I crashed to the ground, reflexively clutching my leg as if to staunch the flow of blood. I could feel the sticky warmth flow over my hands and wailed in horror. My eyes cast a quick glance toward the root and saw a sharp shoot protruding from the other side of the root. Tears welled up in my eyes when I turned my eyes to the wound. The blood that oozed so freely over my leg obscured the damage somewhat, but I knew the cut must be at least an inch deep and extended most of the length of my right thigh.
“F#%!” I cursed and flailed uselessly at the shoot with my healthy leg. The effort only brought fresh pain. A rumble from somewhere to the west drew my attention to the sky. The sun, which had blazed forth from its heavenly perch only moments ago, had dimmed as it continued its relentless march toward the horizon. I would not get to enjoy the sunset, though, for storm clouds darkened the horizon and were moving swiftly to the east as if to swallow the sun. Tears of despair welled up in my eyes. How quickly my joy turned to mourning!
And mourning to outrage, I thought. With a curse, I wiped away the tears that had streaked down my cheek and fought to remain calm. The blood flowed freely from the wound, basting my hand red. I needed a tourniquet. With a grunt, I tore a swath of cloth off my shirt and sat up to create the tourniquet. My head swam at the sudden change in position. I paused until my equilibrium returned and yanked the tourniquet into place. My leg protested the rough treatment, but anger dulled my senses.
The flow of blood trickled to a stop and I pushed myself to my feet. “Damn those villagers and damn that guide who led me here!” I cursed. If not for those yokels, I could have gone on with my vacation, perhaps enjoying a nice sunny beach in some other part of this godforsaken country. No, they told me, go through that there forest, they said, and the prize at the end is worth more than any amount of fun in the sun. “F#$! them!” And f$%! that guide, too. Sent by those yokels, he said. Must be some sort of conspiracy to make my life miserable! B$%!ards! That guide fooled me into racing down that hill when he probably knew that root lay in wait for me. More of that freakin’ conspiracy. “F$%! him” I cursed again. Where is he now? Some f#$!in’ guide.
With a growl, I turned and kicked the root with all my might. A white flash of pain shot through my foot. “F$######!” I cried. I toppled to the ground in a heap of pain. Agony raged through my brain, but anger flushed it out quickly. “Now look what you made me do!” I screamed to the sky. The sky did not answer back, but I raised a finger to the sky as if it had spit on me. Then it did respond. A single drop of rain splashed down on my mouth. “Hahahahaha,” I laughed bitterly. Even the sky is against me now, I thought.
My face set itself into a mask. I reached up, grabbed hold of the shoot that had maimed me and hoisted myself to my feet. Has to be good for something, I figured. Still, when I had found my feet, I pushed down on the shoot with all my might and snapped the branch off. The effort required me to lean heavily on my damaged foot, which made me whimper in pain, but I hefted the branch to the sky, as if victorious. With a cry, I hurled the branch into the forest. Unfortunately, the branch didn’t quite make it into the forest. It ricocheted off a tree and bounced back to smack me in the leg. I cursed and kicked out reflexively with my broken foot, sending the branch flying into the forest. Thankfully, it did not bounce back this time.
Still, the pain that followed sent me to my knees. I howled in agony. Tears rushed to my eyes and I did nothing to stop them. I put my hands to my face and wept, great sobs racking my body. “Please, please,” I croaked, “this can’t happen to me.” Tears dripped off my cheeks and great globs of mucus choked up my nostrils. My breath came in short gasps and I sniffed continually in a vain attempt to keep my airways clear. “Somebody,” I cried, “wake me up from this nightmare.” No one answered.
My body lurched forward so that my forehead smacked into the road. I sat there, still on my knees with my upper body hunched over as if humbling myself before some oblivious deity. My chest heaved and I gasped for breath. Words came to my mind, curses to hurl at the uncaring world, but all that emerged from my mouth was a hideous shriek. I wailed, pounding the ground with my fists, hoping that somehow, some way, the pain would vanish.
After a time, I felt the wetness. It had soaked through my shirt and pants. I shivered as cool gust of wind sent a ripple through my saturated clothes. Rain pounded the suddenly sodden turf beside me. When I raised my head I saw little rivulets forming on the forest path. My heart sank at the sight. How had I not noticed the change in weather?
I shook my head and willed myself to a standing position. Whatever else I felt at the moment, I was not ready to die. Not yet. A steely determination replaced the sorrow and outrage I had previously felt. I would NOT die in this forest. The pain that shot up my leg when I stood made me wince, but I shrugged off the discomfort and gazed at my surroundings and considered my options.
Rain pelted the ground and wind whipped through the trees. To my left, the peaceful stream that had decorated the valley previously, now roared with the future of nature. Though a few hundred meters away, flood waters might flow over the path if the storm grew strong enough. To my right, the forest loomed. I had seen enough of the forest these past few weeks to know that only death lay there.
Behind me, the root remained firmly in place. It stood but a few feet high, yet that might as well be twenty; I stood just as chance of climbing over it if it had stretched so high over my head. Besides, even should I climb the root, a hill ascended behind the root. With one leg gouged and the other ending in a broken foot, I did not have the reserves to climb any hill.
So, I had two choices. Either sit and wait or go forward. In truth, I needed shelter. With the rain had come a sharp drop in temperature. The wind that ruffled my drenched clothes sent shivers rippling through my body. Visions of a roaring fireplace flashed through my mind, but I dismissed those with a sigh. Little chance, I told myself, of finding that out here. A small, abandoned cabin or even a hollowed out tree would have to do. Heck, I would have even settled for the dilapidated shack I had seen at the beginning of my journey if I could have reached it.
Ah, well, I sighed, no sense in worrying about things out of my reach. I could only hope something useful lay ahead. If not, then despite my protests to the contrary, I probably would die out here. As if on cue, a cold gust of wind ripped through my flesh to chill my very bones.
With a moan, I took a step forward. “Aaaahh!” I wailed, as I pushed off on my broken foot. The blood drained from my face and I wrestled with the urge simply to faint and let nature have its way with me. Instead, squish, I took another step. Squish, another. Then another. My body pleaded for mercy, but I would not relent.
Step after step I continued, my mind trying to focus solely on putting one foot in front of the other. Despite my best intentions, images of the bones within my damaged foot flitted through my mind. The serrated edge of the broken bone within my foot edged closer to the boundary between my insides and the outside with each step. In my mind’s eye, the sharp edge of the bone finally brushed, teasingly, against the thick layer of cartilage and skin that should keep bones inside my body. I brushed the images from my mind, urging myself to focus on the path in front of me. Still, they came back, the bone sharper this time, scraping against the barrier a little more roughly this time, but teasing. I pushed it away, but it came back, sharper, rougher, scraping, clawing, moving ever closer to the surface, pushing through, closer, closer….”NOOOOOO!” I raged, throwing my arms out in front of me as if to ward off the nightmarish visions.
The forest answered with silence. Rain still pelted down around me and my foot blazed with agony, but the visions ceased abruptly, as if they had never been. I heaved a sigh, dazed by the sudden relief from the nightmares, but grateful for whatever drove them away.
Darkness began to weigh more heavily on the forest as the sun continued its descent toward the horizon from its hidden position behind the clouds. My heart sank at the encroaching night. Once darkness settled over the land, my chances of finding shelter would disappear with the light. I picked up my pace, hoping to outrace the darkness.
My foot protested the increased pace by sending stabs of pain up my leg. I moaned, wavering toward unconsciousness as the pain overcame me. My body teetered, on the verge of failing, and I ripped a strip of cloth off my shirt. I bunched the cloth up and put the bit between my teeth. With my next step, I chomped down the on the cloth, desperately in need of some way to fight back against the pain that assailed me. It eased the pain somewhat, but my mind still swayed as my body struggled to pump enough blood to my brain to sustain consciousness.
I marched onward, having nowhere else to go. Unfortunately, the road, which had been smooth and free of obstructions mere hours before had suddenly overgrown with rocks and sharp twigs. The soles of my shoes had become parchment-thin over the previous several weeks such that each step brought fresh agony to broken and healthy foot alike. I chomped down on the cloth and tried to scream, but the sound would not make it past the gag. The effort did nothing but suck the cloth deeper into my mouth. I gagged and fell forward, spewing the cloth from my mouth.
My left hand fell on a sharp splinter of wood and I shrieked as the wood punctured my hand. I twisted to my right instinctively to avoid landing harder on the splinter. I grunted as my right shoulder smacked into the muddy ground, but the grunt cut short as my head smashed into a rock on the forest floor. White light flashed through my mind’s eye, but was quickly replaced by darkness.
*******
I awoke to the sound of running water. My eyelids parted to reveal a white ceiling above me. A faint, melodic sound drifted to my ears and I turned get a better glimpse of my surroundings. Sunlight beamed in through one large window placed along the far wall. I lifted a hand to shield my eyes against the glare.
The room I found myself in reminded me of home. From the light, hardwood floors to the off-white walls to the brown leather sofa parked under the window opposite me, the place breathed contentment into my parched lungs. I sighed and rested my head on the arm of the identical brown sofa that lay beneath me. Perhaps the trip through the forest had been nothing but a dream, I told myself, and I had simply fallen asleep on my couch at home.
Of course, the place I inhabited now did not look like home. It only made me feel like home. Come to think of it, I had never felt this comfortable at ‘home’. Home, for me, was a roach infested little apartment in the slums of New York. Instead of plush leather furniture, I had a dilapidated vinyl loveseat that looked as if a rat had chewed its way through the front of it. One probably had, for that matter. My walls had not seen a coat of paint in probably fifty years. Indeed, the walls back home looked as if someone had swung a lead pipe at them repeatedly, unlike these smooth, well-manicured walls that surrounded me.
No, nothing like home. Or, perhaps this was what home was supposed to be and my real home was some sort of twisted, nightmarish version of home. Against my better judgment, l leaned back into the sofa and relaxed, enjoying the respite from what I now realized to be a tortured existence. Back home, blaring music and the occasional gunshot made sleep or any sort of peace an only occasional luxury, one I would trade anything to experience. Here, I had to fight against peace and relaxation, for my body wanted nothing more than to rest and luxuriate in the tranquil surroundings. Events from the past week occupied a small, vague corner of my mind, but faded into insignificance amidst the serene surroundings. I smiled and pulled the soft, fur blanket that covered me to my chest, at peace for the first time in many years.
At that moment, the woman’s humming drifted back into focus.
I bolted upright, city wariness returning instantly. The sudden movement brought a sharp ache to my head, and my vision swam with the change in position. I put a hand to my head to steady myself. That’s when I felt the bandage that wound itself around my head and my most recent memories came crashing out of that back corner of my mind. I tossed the blanket to the side and swung my legs off the sofa onto the floor. My left foot clunked onto the wood floors and I gazed down to find it wrapped in a plaster cast. Someone had been busy last night. How had I slept through that procedure? Had this humming woman drugged me? Even if I that rock knocked me unconscious, I surely could not have slept through someone handling my mangled foot. She must have drugged me. I growled at allowing myself to become so vulnerable.
I pushed myself to my feet with a grunt and limped over to the window. My foot throbbed with a dull ache, but I ignored it amidst the need to find out what had happened to me. Despite the tranquility of the place, unease trickled through my mind. Perhaps this happy humming woman only wanted me to feel at home before the torture began. She had tended to my wounds and made me feel comfortable so that the pain from previous injuries wouldn’t interfere with the effects of the torture she’d inflict later. Yeah. I’d seen that in a movie once. Devious. A very devious person, this humming woman in the other room.
A part of my mind laughed at the absurdity of the notion, but it couldn’t shake loose the suspicion. I ripped open the gossamer curtains that did little to shield the house from the outside world. A red cobbled street lay less than 30 feet from the house. As I watched, several people in what I could only call tunics and trousers ambled down the street, chatting amiably as they strolled. In front of them, a boy danced merrily, hands to the sky. To my left, a horse and buggy came into view. The couple in the cart paid little mind to the horses that pulled them. Instead, they faced each other, obviously engaged in some sort of entertaining conversation from the way each smiled and laughed repeatedly. The horses themselves almost pranced down the street, as if the cheeriness of the town rubbed off even on them.
Across the street, houses lined the road. Though similar in size, the houses betrayed very different styles and tastes. No two houses had the exact same color or decoration. Light blue, yellow, beige, white, even pink, each house exuded brightness and life. Most had gardens planted in the front of them, with flowers of all colors arrayed in varying patterns. One of the houses had two young trees planted on its perfectly manicured front lawn. White, yellow, red, and pink flowers encircled the base of each tree, whereas traditional flower beds hugged two other houses.
In front of the house I inhabited at the moment, there stood neither flower nor tree, but something even more delightful. A fruit and vegetable garden bearing fruit of enormous proportions sprawled out before me. My mouth popped open at seeing tomatoes the size of watermelons, grapes the size of apples, and cucumbers like footballs. The produce growing in this humming woman’s garden looked like it had been fed steroids from birth. A laugh escaped me at the beautiful absurdity of it all.
‘Roar’ said my stomach. I looked down to see that my salivary glands had left a sizeable puddle on the windowsill. I laughed again.
“It sounds like someone likes what he sees,” came a voice from across the room.
I spun, raising a hand to wipe away the saliva that had slid over my lips. Ten feet away, a dark haired woman stood bearing a tray laden with succulent fruit. I suddenly became acutely aware of my own lack of dress, for I wore only a brief pair of boxers. Instinctively, I reached down to cover myself more fully. A small corner of my mind protested, telling me this was exactly what I had always wanted, to be unclothed with a woman. I waved away that voice easily, though, for it was quite silly.
The woman giggled. “Your clothes have been washed. They’re on the end table next to the couch in front of you. Just let me know when you’re ready.” Her efforts to hide the smile that snuck onto her face failed, but dutifully she turned around.
I walked over to the end table that sat right next to the couch where I had previously lain. In doing so, I could not avoid walking closer to the dark haired woman. Her scent came to me then, a delicate aroma that made my knees wobble. I clutched at the couch to steady myself, grateful that she hadn’t seen my little stumble. I inched closer to her, inhaling slowly, afraid that my efforts might shatter the silence, but unable to resist. The scent wafted through the air to slam into my nostrils. I staggered back to drop with a thud on the couch.
“You fool!” I cursed softly at myself.
“Is everything OK?” she asked.
She fidgeted and craned her neck in an apparent attempt to look over her own shoulder without turning her head. She was worried, I thought. Worried! About me! I tried to reach over to grab my clothes, but my arm shook so badly I let it drop and sat for a moment, trying to calm myself.
“Yes,” I croaked, barely audible even to myself. “Uh-hum. I mean, yes, I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” I slapped my forehead. What a fool she must think I am! Thanks for asking, indeed.
I glanced over to her and I saw her lift her hand to her mouth. Her body trembled slightly, and I knew it was with mirth. She’s laughing at me! I moaned internally. Why shouldn’t she, after all?
Despondent, I reached over to grab my clothes. As I did so, I noticed my left palm. In the center lay a round pink scar. Oh, my God! I remembered the fall I took just before hitting the rock and the stick that had pierced my hand. Quick reflexes had saved me from having the stick driven completely through my hand, but, still, it had not been a mere surface wound. Even a surface wound would still take days to heal like this. How…
“How long have I been out?” I blurted.
She shifted her hips. “Hmm, well, we picked you up yesterday evening just before sunset. It’s about noon now. Not that long.”
Just before sunset? So, maybe 8 o’clock last night. If it’s noon, then I had been out for about 16 hours. Sixteen hours! “Then how…”
She chuckled. “You want to know how your cuts healed?” I murmured an assent. “Our guide healed them, of course, both the one on your hand and the one on your thigh. He is good to us, isn’t he?”
My thigh! I cursed under my breath again. Of course, that wicked branch that so callously gouged me! I peeled back my boxers and saw that my left upper thigh bore nothing but a faint pink scar like my palm. Amazing! Still…
“Guide?” I asked. “Oh, you mean that guy I met in the forest. Yeah, he brought me out of the woods a few times, but he abandoned me down in the valley. He seemed like a nice guy, but not very reliable as a guide, if you know what I mean.”
Her entire body stiffened abruptly at my words. The casual manner in which she had stood, weight shifted ever so slightly to her right, with her hip pointing out in a way that locked my gaze firmly in place, ended. She stood straight as a board and her voice came tight and strained. “No, I am not sure I know what you mean.”
My heart seized, as if in panic. “Please don’t take any offense.” I held up my hands in a placating gesture she could not see. “I liked the guy, really I did. He saved me a couple of times, even, but when things got tough, he seemed to get going. What’s the use of a guide if he abandons you at the slightest hint of trouble? I mean, wasn’t he supposed to help lead me through the forest?”
She relaxed slightly, letting her weight shift marginally to her left. Her back remained rigid, but she sighed. “We should talk, Joshua.” My ears pricked up at the sound of my name. Such a simple name, but it seemed almost lyrical coming from her lips. “…changing your clothes,” she finished.
“Huh?” I asked. “I’m sorry, I missed that last part.”
She planted her fists on her hips. “I said,” her tone took on a bite, “have you finished changing into your clothes?”
I blushed. “Uh, just finishing. Wait one second.” Hastily, I pulled my tan trousers up over my boxers, noticing as I did so that the pants had been repaired also. Only a small seem betrayed the fact that the right leg had recently been ripped. I then grabbed my T-shirt and began to pull it over my head. “How did you know my name?” I asked as the shirt came down over my face.
“What?” she asked.
After the shirt cleared my face, I repeated myself. “Sorry. How did you know my name?”
“Can I turn around now?”
“Yes,” I answered, and quickly smoothed my shirt and pants in a vain attempt to make myself presentable. No amount of shirt-smoothing would make me look good with this infernal bandage on my head. Stupid rock!
She turned around smiled at me. Her gazed dropped down to my shirt and I blushed furiously. “Uh-hum,” she cleared her throat delicately, “your shirt’s inside out.”
My mouth gaped wide and I looked down. Indeed, the ‘Nike’ logo faced my chest rather than away from it. I laughed weakly. “Oops!” I said.
“I’ll turn around again.” A lingering smile played around her lips and her eyes sparkled, but she was true to her word.
I hastily threw the shirt over my head, turned it right side out and put it back in its place. “I’m done,” I said and gave her a sheepish smile when she turned back around.
She turned and smiled again. “May I sit down, Joshua?” A tingle spread through the base of my neck at the use of my name.
I blushed again when I realized that she meant “…sit down next to you, Joshua.” She sat but inches from me on the sofa and turned slightly to face me. Her left knee grazed my right one as she adjusted herself. I gulped, willing my hands to stay still despite their urgent desire to shake. Her scent erupted in my brain and I rested my head on my hand to keep it from swaying with the effect.
“Let’s start over, Tom,” she said. “My name’s Jessica.” She extended a hand and I made myself proud by shaking it without the slightest tremble.
“Hi, Lorraine,” I mumbled. Idiot, I swore at myself. Don’t mumble like a little boy! “Nice to meet you,” I said in my best suave, ‘manly’ voice. Yes! That’s the way. I congratulated myself.
She laughed. “It’s very nice to meet you, too, Joshua.” A celebration went off in my head. I made her laugh! She likes me; she really, really likes me!
I relaxed slightly, easing back into the sofa a little. “So, you found out my name by…”
“Oh,” she said, blushing slightly, “our guide told me, of course.” She hesitated. “But I knew it already. I looked in your wallet to find out your name because I wanted to,” she continued. “I hope you don’t mind…”
Spots of pink appeared on her olive cheeks. My eyes widened abruptly when I realized what that implied. She DID like me. “No,” I insisted, “I don’t mind at all.” I smiled to put her at ease. Hah! I laughed in my head. Imagine that, me putting a woman at ease.
We sat staring at each other for a second before I broke the silence. “So,” I said, “how did you find me?”
She smiled slightly. “Would you like some fruit?” she offered. I started, remembering the fruit she had brought in for me.
My stomach growled its answer. “Yes,” I added, unnecessarily.
Jessica laughed and reached over to her side. Apparently, she had placed the tray down on the couch when she sat, but not between us. She held up a softball-sized peach in one hand and a cluster of tennis ball-sized grapes in the other. I grabbed both and stuffed the peach in my mouth without preamble. The juice ran down my chin as soon as my teeth sank into the peach’s soft flesh. I felt my face flush and raised my right arm to wipe the juice off with my wrist.
She blushed, too, mumbled sorry and rose quickly from the couch. My eyes followed her involuntarily as she departed through a swinging door that led presumably to the kitchen. I sighed and bit into the peach once again, feeling the juice flow even more freely down my chin.
Jessica burst back into the room then, clutching a handful of napkins. I dropped the grapes down on my lap and reached for the napkins as she approached. As I grasped the napkins, I shuddered as the tips of my fingers grazed hers. She simply smiled at me softly and mimed wiping my mouth with the napkins. I did so hastily, hoping to hide my anxiety.
Jessica settled onto the couch and said, “Some friends of mine from the village go out every evening to look for travelers we might help. You weren’t very far away, fortunately, and only a very short distance into the forest. I saw you lying there and had my friends help get you to the village.”
My brows furrowed. Into the forest? She must be wrong. I had been on the path all along. I was sure of it. All I said, though, was, “So your village is part of the path?”
“Yes,” she replied. “We’re an outpost on the path for weary travelers and for those who wander onto the path from the forest. Sometimes we even bring in people from the forest itself.” Her eyes grew bright at the mention of that and she gave me a pointed look.
I bit into the peach and started when my teeth smacked into the pit rather than flesh. I looked and saw that I had finished the entire fruit. Shrugging, I wrapped one of the napkins around the pit, placed the package on my lap, and began working on the grapes.
“Here, I’ll take that,” Jessica offered.
Hesitantly, I gave Jessica the wrapped peach pit. She took it without flinching and deposited it in a garbage can on her side of the sofa.
Something of what she said before troubled me. “You mean, you and the other villagers go into the forest to bring forest-dwellers here? Friends of mine told me to never go into the forest, but to always stay on the path. They also told me forest-dwellers were dangerous and should be avoided. Were they wrong?”
Jessica’s eyebrows rose. “Is that what they said?” She seemed surprised.
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