K. Blackthorn

    Seeker woke to the sound of Beautiful rustling about.  She’d rekindled the fire, and a small pot of water was already boiling over the flames.  She poured the hot liquid into his tin cup and turned the pot upside down on a nearby rock.

   “Morning, sleepyhead,” she said.  She stirred the drink with a whittled stick, then handed him the cup.  Where had she found coffee at the Interpreter’s House?  What else was in that pack?  He took a sip—and smiled at her.

    “My cup and my knife,” he said, feigning offense. “What else did you dig out of my satchel?”

   She tilted her chin up slightly.  “You’re welcome, Seeker.”

   “Before you ask…”  She kissed him lightly.  “There’s your sweetener.”

    He found a patch of grass where the morning sun had dried the dew beneath the canopy of leaves and sat down.  She offered him a small loaf of bread, but he shook his head.  “Not hungry.”

    Birds sang to them from the branches.  A squirrel chased another up a nearby tree.  Why had he been so worried about time yesterday?  A walk with Beautiful today, and they’d reach the Dark Land.  Then he remembered.  The City of Destruction.  He had to tell her.  Why did he have to ruin the good moments?  Every.  Single.  One.

   “Beautiful, come here.”  He patted the ground beside him, motioning for her to sit.

   He lifted her leg gently, removed her boot, and rolled off her sock.  “There’s something I need to tell you.”

    He reached into his satchel and took out a roll of bandages.  She glanced at her blisters.  “Can you kiss them and make them better?”

   He tenderly wrapped her heel and two toes.  “I’m not kissing your stinky feet!” 

   She stuck out her bottom lip—then quietly offered him her other foot.

    “Beautiful, I never meant to lie to you.  I’m sorry,” he said.  “I just never could find the right time to tell you.”  She had only one blister on this foot.

    He couldn’t find the words.  “Don’t slap your feet when you walk, baby.”  That’s all he could think of.

    Her feet were bandaged, her boots back on.  She sat facing him, his hands in hers.  “Well?”

    There was no easy way.  Just say it.  “My mom left my dad.  That’s why I was alone in Uncertain.”

    “Why?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

    He gazed into her eyes, searching.  “My family is cursed.  Giant Wrath has stalked my father, and his father, and the ones before them—for generations.”  Only kindness in her eyes.  “He destroys everything.  Always.”

    “You’re not your dad.”  Her eyes flashed.  “And I’m not your mom.”  She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him.

***

The way to the City of Destruction was clearly marked by a well-trodden road.  The city walls came into view as they crested a hill.  Beautiful pointed.  “We’re almost there.”

    Seeker laughed.  “You can’t judge distance either.”  Then he remembered the hurt in her eyes, and his voice softened.  “We still have hours of walking, little baby.”

   “If you say so, honey.”  She shrugged.  “Tell me about your brother, then.”

    “Thoughtful?” he laughed.  “Sometimes I think they should have named him Thoughtless.  But he’s a good kid.”

    “You don’t have a lot to say about him.”

    “He’s a lot younger than me.  My parents left me in Uncertain just when he was starting to become fun.”  He paused.  “Though there was that time…”  Seeker shut his mouth abruptly.

    “What?”

   “Nope.” He laughed, full and easy.  “Nothing.”

    As they neared the city, Seeker said, “Nothing like its name, is it?”   The plaster looked fresh, the walls clean—possibly even newly painted.

    Rows of timber-framed houses greeted them, three and four stories tall, as they passed through the city gates.  A soft murmur of voices buzzed around them, as people hurried about their business.

    In the city square, a statue towered over them, its copper surface gleaming in the sunlight.  It had the head of a lion, the hands and feet of a bear, and fish scales covering its body.  Dragon wings stretched out in pride, casting long shadows across the square.

    “Grotesque,” Beautiful said.

    “Apollyon.”  Seeker nodded, pointing at the inscription.  “Three hundred years, and no one’s thought to pull this down.”

    Seeker pulled a small black notebook from his satchel.  “Hmm,” he thought out loud.  “Let me see.”

    Beautiful tugged at his arm.  “Let’s go.  This is giving me the creeps.”

    He kept flipping through his notebook as Beautiful dragged him out of the square.  “There,” he said at last, glancing down one street, then another.  “Her house should be on the other side of the bridge.”

    He took her hand and led her down one street, then another, until they reached the river.  A graceful wooden bridge arched over it.  He pointed at the water.  “I thought I recognized it.  This river gave me no end of grief.”   Below them, the water swirled in dizzying patterns, dredging up mud and carrying a faint, rotting smell.

    “River of Confusion,” he said.  He imagined the river was whispering—mocking him.  “It runs all the way to the Slough, with no bridge across.”  Then he added, “Well, except here… and in Stupidity.  Not much of a bridge there, though.”

   “There’s another one,” she said.  “On the way to the Dark Land.  It empties into the harbor there.”

   On the other side, Seeker stopped to ask directions.  Then he led them down one street, into an alley, and out onto another.

    “Are you sure you know where you are going?” she asked.

    He shrugged, a smirk tugging at his mouth.  “Who knows?”

    At last, they stood in front of a small house.  “You knock, baby,” he said.

***

    Thoughtful opened the door and stared at Beautiful for a moment—then his eyes landed on Seeker.  “Seeker?”  He turned and shouted into the house, “Mom!  Seeker’s here!  And he has a…”

    Beautiful’s eyes danced.  She leaned close to Seeker and whispered, “You didn’t tell me your brother was so cute.”

    “Hmph,” he scoffed.

    When Seeker’s mom saw him, she began to cry—then wrapped him in a tight hug.

     “Mom,” he said, “This is Beautiful.  My…” He hesitated.  “Well—I love her and I’m going to marry her.”  He turned to Beautiful.  “My mom.  And my bratty brother, Thoughtful.”

    “Beautiful,” Seeker’s mom said, giving her a quick once-over.  “Come in.  Sit down.  Can I get you some water?”

    “Are you hungry?” she asked.  “It’s not supper time yet, but I can whip something up real quick if you are.”

     “No, Mom,” Seeker said.  Beautiful nodded.  “We can’t stay long.  We’re hoping to reach the Dark Land before sundown.”

    “Dark Land?”  Seeker’s mom asked, “That’s a dangerous place.  Are you from the Dark Land, Beautiful?”  She shot Seeker a concerned look.

    Beautiful frowned.

    Seeker told how he’d left Uncertain—carefully leaving out the part about the Slough of Despond.  He spoke of Companion, of the Cottage, and how he met Beautiful in the wheat fields.  Beautiful chimed in and finished the story—leaving out, of course, their Christmas kiss.

    Seeker’s mom didn’t seem happy.  He expected her to smile, to hug Beautiful.  Something.  Anything.

    Seeker’s mom started to say something—when Thoughtful came in.  “Seeker, I have something for you.”

     Seeker rose and followed Thoughtful to the other side of the room.  Behind him, he heard Beautiful’s voice “Why did you leave Seeker’s dad?”  He winced.  This was going about as well as expected.

    “Look what I drew,” Thoughtful said, grinning, holding a stack of paper.

     Beautiful’s voice drifted from the other side of the room.  “I don’t understand.  Can’t you just do something… fun together?”

    Thoughtful had drawn pictures of young ladies.  They were fully clothed, but very curvy.  And not one of them had a head.  Seeker chuckled.   “You’ve got talent.”

    “No.” Beautiful snapped.  “I do believe that forgiveness is that simple.”

    “Mom will kill me if she ever finds these,” Thoughtful said.  “Can you keep them for me?  Just for now?”

    Seeker folded the drawings carefully and tucked them into his satchel.  This time, his mom’s voice rang across the room.

    “After Giant Wrath knocks you unconscious—and you’ve shed as many tears as me—then you can judge me!”

   Thoughtful looked at Seeker.  “Maybe you should just forget about her, man.”

    “My son will hurt you,” Seeker’s mom said.  “I’m telling you this because I care about you, Beautiful.”

    “I’m not you!”

    Thoughtful shrugged.  “Beautiful does seem kind of bossy.”  His voice was just a little too loud.

***

    Beautiful seemed shaken as they trudged through the back alleys.  Seeker had tried to convince her to continue their trip, but she insisted on meeting his dad.  She could be so stubborn. 

    They’d stayed a little longer.  Things had cooled down.  Beautiful and Seeker’s mom even hugged when they left.  And Seeker had promised they’d visit again.

    “She didn’t like me.”

    “No, Beautiful.  She’s just like that.  Give her time.  She’ll love you the same way I do.”

    “And I’m not bossy!” Lightning flashed in her eyes.

    “I never said you were.”

   “Yeah, but you didn’t say I wasn’t.”

   “If you want the truth, Beautiful… You were being a little bossy,” he said.  “Just a little bit.”

    “This is where Mom said Dad lives.”  He stepped up to the door and knocked.  “Now behave.”

    Seeker’s dad opened the door.  “Well, hello, Seeker!” he said, grinning broadly—then pulled him into a hug, then stepped back.  “And who might this beautiful young lady be?”

    “I’m Beautiful,” she said.

   “Yes, you certainly are!”  Seeker’s dad said. 

    Beautiful burst out laughing.  “That’s exactly what he said to me!”

    “Can you blame him?”  Seeker’s dad said.  “My son has good taste!”

   It was a small place—barely a single room.  Seeker’s dad cleared a spot on the bed in the center of the room and motioned for them to sit.  “Tell me about how you met.”

    Seeker told him everything— from leaving Uncertain, to meeting Beautiful, to the moment he proposed.

   Seeker’s dad hugged her.  “Can I call you daughter?  Is it too early?”

    Beautiful smiled.  “Yes, I would love that.” 

    “Did you see your mother?” Seeker’s dad asked.  “I certainly wouldn’t tell her about the Slough.  You know the way she is.”

   “No, I didn’t,” Seeker said.  “Tell her about the Slough, I mean.  We did see her.”

    “Why do you live like this?” Beautiful asked, wide-eyed.  “Don’t you want something better?”

    “When Seeker’s mother left me,” he said, “she took everything.”  He glanced at Seeker.  “And nobody—nobody—helped me.”

    “Seeker’s mom, she has a small place.  And you have a small place,” she said.  “If you got back together it would solve so many problems.”

    “I’m trying,” he said, his face beginning to flush.

    “I told her— forgiveness is simple.  Eat a meal together.  Smile.  Forget the past.  You just have to try… just a little harder.”

    The vein in Seeker’s dad’s neck throbbed.  “Look. I’m working my ass off.  Trying my damned hardest.  But nobody gives a damn about me—nobody.

    Beautiful flinched and began to shiver.  She opened her mouth to speak—but Seeker placed his hand on hers.  “Beautiful,” he whispered.  “Stop.” 

    They sat in silence for a long moment, just looking at each other.  The flush in Seeker’s dad’s face faded.  Beautiful offered a brave smile.

    “Look, Dad, it was good to see you,” Seeker said.  “But we’ve still got a long walk ahead of us.” 

    Seeker’s dad hugged her.  “Take care, Beautiful.  My daughter.  Come back to see me.”

    “We will,” she said quietly.

***

    They walked in silence— through the alleys and streets, past the grotesque statue of Apollyon, and out through the city gates.  The path looped around the edge of the City of Destruction.  After they crossed the stone bridge over the River of Confusion, Beautiful finally spoke.

    “You never told me your dad is bald.”

    “What?” 

    Really?  Unbelievable.  That’s what she took away from all this?

    “I don’t want you to be bald.  Everything else is bad enough.”

    “I won’t be bald, Beautiful,” he said.  “I look just like my mom’s dad.  And he’s not bald.”

    “You don’t know that.”  She sniffed.  “Your mom hates me.  And your dad… he never said he was sorry.”

    “He never does.  Never has.  Why do you think Mom left him?”

   “You do.  You always say you’re sorry.”

   “Yeah, I try.”

    “But what if…” she hesitated.  “One day you don’t?”  Tears rolled down her face.

   She flung herself down onto a rock and began to sob—bawling like a baby.  Seeker sat down beside her.

   “I hate you!”  

    Seeker held back his tears.  “That’s a horrible thing to say, Beautiful.  It hurts.  So bad.  How can you say you don’t love me?”

    “Don’t be a dumb boy, Seeker.  Just because you hate someone doesn’t mean you don’t love him.”  She grabbed his hand.  

     “I love you.  I love you.  I love you!”

    He put his arm around her, and they just sat.  Then—out of nowhere—a stag appeared.  Majestic antlers crowned his head.  He stood still, gazing at Beautiful. 

   Her face lit with glee.  She turned to kiss Seeker.  “Yes. I do love you, Seeker.”

    Maybe it really is that simple.

***

    The sun had fully set, and Seeker and Beautiful walked on in the dark— Bear circling silently behind them.

    “No need to camp, Seeker.  We’re almost there.  I know the Dark Land well.”

    “You mean to tell me,” Seeker said, holding back a laugh, “that the Dark Land isn’t always… dark?”

    She slapped his hand.  “Don’t be dumb.”

    In the distance, lights shimmered from a quiet fishing village.

    “Hurry up, honey— we’re home!”  Beautiful exclaimed.

    When Seeker stepped into the common room, Beautiful was already there—packed, ready, and chatting with Faint-Resolve.  Or rather, Strong-for-the-Faith, as he was known now.

    “Here’s a bedroll for you, Miss Beautiful,” he said.  “I won’t need it anymore.  And Companion’s for you, Seeker.”  He nodded toward the familiar roll.  “I’m leaving today too.  My tour is over.”  The clouds were gone from his face, and a smile broke through.  It was the first time Seeker had seen him really smile.  “I’m going home to my wife!”

    Miss Cheerful bustled into the room.  “Morning, Seeker-for-Sandwiches!” she chirped, slipping a small linen parcel into Beautiful’s pack.  She paused, giving Beautiful a knowing look.  “Though whatever you’ve been seeking, I dare say you’ve found it.”

    “They really are a cute couple,” Strong-for-the-Faith added.

   “Yes, they are!  Now sit—all of you.  Traveling on an empty stomach is no good.”  This time, Miss Cheerful joined them without a thought.

    Strong-for-the-Faith gave thanks for their breakfast, for Miss Cheerful, and for the journey ahead.  He prayed the King’s blessing over Seeker and Beautiful.

    Then Miss Cheerful added, solemn and soft, “Keep Seeker and Beautiful safe with Your hand—on their journey, and in their lives.”

   After they ate, Strong-for-the-Faith set out north on the Narrow Way, and Seeker and Beautiful turned south—Miss Cheerful standing before the ruins of the Interpreter’s House, waving.

***

    The day was beautiful—clear, bright, and touched with a lazy breeze.  Clouds drifted overhead like they had nowhere better to be.   Beautiful walked beside him, chatting about everything and nothing.

    When they reached the Wicket Gate, Beautiful gestured toward the summer parlor.  “Honey, can we stop and rest a bit?” she asked.

    It was just as dusty as he remembered.  “There’s a well,” Beautiful said.  “Should be a bucket nearby.  Could you bring me some water please?”  She found a broom and began sweeping.  When he returned, she was already wiping the table with a dry cloth.  She dampened it, cleaned the pitcher, and filled it with water from the bucket.

    How had she known about the well?  Or the bucket.  She was more familiar with the Wicket Gate than he was.  But the sun was already climbing, and they still had a long way to go.

    “Beautiful, what are you doing?”  He paced.  She didn’t answer—just kept cleaning.  “I thought you wanted to rest?”

    “There,” she said at last.  She motioned to the armchair, swatted the dust off the couch, and sat.  “I’ve been thinking…”

    “When we should have been walking.”

    She frowned.  “I needed to rest,” she said.  “Besides, someone has to clean—for the next Pilgrims.”

   “I’ve been thinking,” she repeated.

   While we should have been walking.  He didn’t say it out loud.

   “On the way,” she said, “let’s stop and visit your parents.”

   “No,” he said without hesitation. 

    “But why not, Seeker?  I have to meet them.  I won’t marry you if I don’t.”  She paused.  “No—I will marry you.  You know that.  But my parents won’t give us their blessing.”

    Seeker felt dizzy.  “It’s out of the way, Beautiful.  It’s a long trip.  And you’ll be tired.”  She wasn’t buying it.  “Next time,” he said.  “I promise.  You’ll meet them.”

   A stubborn look crossed her face.  “You take me—or we turn around right now.”

    Seeker sighed.  “OK,” he said at last.  “But I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

    She stood, smiled, and leaned in to kiss him.

    If she noticed his unease, he couldn’t tell.  He was going to have to tell her eventually, anyway.

***

    When they stepped out of the Wicket Gate, Beelzebub’s Castle loomed over them—deserted, cold, and quiet.   Beautiful’s eyes lit up.  “Seeker, let’s see what’s inside!”

   “No.” 

   “It’s been empty three hundred years! It’ll be an adventure, like we used to do.”

   “No.”

    She stuck out her bottom lip.  “You used to be fun,” she pouted.

   Unbelievable.  Did she have no concept of time?  “Beautiful, baby—do you want to cross the Slough in the dark?”  He paused.  “No.  Now stop being a baby.  Next time.  I promise.”

***

    The sun had reached its height and was already sinking in the west.   Beautiful had run out of things to talk about.  Or maybe she was just mad.  He couldn’t tell which.

    “I’m tired,” she moaned.  “My feet hurt.”

    “Of course you’re tired, Beautiful.”  Nobody but you would clean the Wicket Gate on a trip like this.  He didn’t say it out loud.

   “I’m hungry.”  She stomped her feet.  “You’re a slave driver.”

   “Now your feet hurt even worse, don’t they, little baby?”  He paused, then added.  “I’m pretty hungry myself.”  He pointed at an olive tree.  “There.  Let’s see what Miss Cheerful packed for us.”

    Beautiful sat on the soft grass in the shadow of the olive tree.  Around her, flowers swayed—long, slender stems of deep royal blue, touched with soft violet undertones and golden veins.  Three upright, three curving downward.  She took the linen parcel from her bag and carefully unwrapped it.

   Inside were two sandwiches.  “One for me,” she said.  Then sweetly, “And one for my husband.”  She didn’t even blush this time.

    Birds sang around them.  Flowers swayed.  And she looked so beautiful.  He wanted to stay here—just lie down on the grass and forget everything.  But time wouldn’t wait for them.

   Beautiful took off one boot, then peeled off her sock.  A blister bloomed on her heel—and two more on her toes. “I told you my feet hurt,” she said.

   “Poor baby,” he said. “No more stomping your feet.”

***

    The sun was sinking behind the horizon when they reached the Slough.  Seeker was surprised by what he saw.  There were no steppingstones—not even the rickety bridge he’d imagined from Companion’s explanation.

    Piles had been driven deep into the muck, anchoring the bridge where the Slough had once threatened to swallow everything.  The thick hardwood planks were solid beneath their feet, remarkably well-preserved, supported by timber framing that stretched across the breadth of the mire.   Low railings lined either side.

    When they stepped on the bridge, Beautiful grabbed Seeker’s arm and held tight.  With her other hand she pointed toward the edge of the Slough.  “There.”

    “There what?”

    “That’s where I fell in.”  Her whole body shuddered.

    Seeker could almost feel the mire of the Slough again, leeching warmth from his skin.  He remembered how he’d struggled—how it had felt like days—until he finally passed out.  If not for Companion…

   She was pointing at the edge—within sight of the grass, the flowers.  You could still hear the sparrows singing.  He laughed.

   Her eyes darkened.  No flare.  No lightning.  Just sadness—quiet and complete.  She let go of his arm, turned and trudged slowly across the bridge.

   “Beautiful, wait.  I’m sorry,” he said, chasing after her.  “I didn’t mean to laugh.  It’s just—well, when I thought about how I almost died…” He caught his breath.  “You’ve got to admit…”

    She turned around, tears streaming down her face.  “You always underestimate me.”  Bitterness edged her voice.  “You’re strong.  I’m weak.  I hurt.  But somehow—you even hurt better than me.”

    “I’m sorry,” he stammered.

    “I thought you understood me.  That’s why I love you,” she said.  “I thought you were different from everyone else.”

    He reached for her hand, but she pushed it away—then turned and crossed the bridge alone.

***

    A thicket of trees stood in the hollow on the far side of the Slough.  Beautiful had already set down her pack and was laying her bedroll out. 

    Seeker sighed.  At least they’d crossed safely.  He regretted the laugh.  The things she had said about him—those weren’t true.  He didn’t think of her that way.  Didn’t she know that?  Why did she have to be so difficult all the time?

    He placed his bedroll near hers—close enough to keep her safe, far enough to give her space.

    The stars began to appear.  The Bear had started his rounds.  It was far too late in the year for the Hunter, but maybe he’d catch sight of him in the morning—just before sunrise.

    Seeker gathered a few sticks and carefully arranged them in the firepit left by earlier travelers.  From his satchel, he took out the flint and steel—another gift from Companion.  Within minutes, he had a small fire blazing.

    Beautiful was already resting on her bedroll, so he laid down beside her.  She stood and picked up her bedroll.

    She walked to the far side—the direction he was facing—and carefully unrolled her bedroll so it touched his.   Then she lay down and pressed her full body against him.  She took his head in both hands and kissed him deeply.

   “Let’s not fight, Seeker.  I know you didn’t mean it.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean it either.”

   She wrapped her arms tightly around him.  “I love you, Seeker.  I really do.”

    Beautiful gasped.  “Great-Saint!”  Then she bolted toward the Narrow Way.  Seeker blinked, startled, and broke into a run after her.  A lone traveler in simple clothes was walking the path—no staff, no satchel.  Beautiful reached him first.  She threw her arms around him and didn’t let go.

    The stranger was barely taller than Beautiful.  His face was hard—fierce, even—but his eyes shone with a familiar light.  With Beautiful’s arms around him, he gently patted her back and tried to shrug as his eyes met Seeker’s.

    “Great-Saint!  Oh, it’s good to see you.  What are you doing here?  It’s been so long!  Are you headed to the Dark Land?  Are you stopping at the Cottage?  For the night?”

    When Seeker reached her side, she grasped his hand.  “You have to meet Seeker.  I made him sandwiches, and… oh, I’m getting ahead of myself.  I love him.  And we’re getting married.  But first…”

    She stopped abruptly, her face flushing red.  Then she grinned and glanced away.  She always looked adorable when she did that.  She turned to Seeker.  “Seeker, this is my brother, Great-Saint.”

    Great-Saint’s handshake was firm—strong.  He studied Seeker’s hand for a moment.  “Your hands are soft,” he said, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.  “But I can tell—you have a good heart.”

   Beautiful cut in.  “What am I going to do?  Mom and Dad will never let him marry me.  I’ve thought about it for so long, and I still can’t figure it out.”  Then she added, softer, but certain, “But the King sent him to me.  I know it.”

    Great-Saint placed a hand on Seeker’s shoulder as the three of them began walking toward the Cottage.  “Have you heard of Hosea?” he asked, thoughtful.

    “Yes,” Seeker said.  “The King commanded Hosea to marry Gomer—she was a prostitute.  And when she went back to her trade, Hosea loved her so much he searched for her and brought her back home.”  His eyes settled on a rock in the trail.  “It’s an allegory,” he said quietly.  “About the King—and wayward Pilgrims.”

    Great-Saint looked at Seeker with a mix of surprise and approval, “Can you love my sister like that?”

    Beautiful’s eyes flared.  “Great-Saint!”  She slapped his arm.

    Seeker didn’t hesitate.  “I love her.  I’ll love her, no matter what—like the Prince loves the flock.  If I have to, I’ll work for her seven years.  No, fourteen, like Jacob did for Rachel.  And it’ll feel like just a few days.”

    Great-Saint nodded.  As they walked, he spoke about Gomer.  And Hosea.  He didn’t stop.  His voice was steady—eloquent.  Almost like one of Stern’s sermons.  Seeker glanced at Beautiful.  She liked to talk, too.  Must run in the family.  He chuckled to himself.

    They stopped at the path leading to the Cottage.  “Eat lunch with us,” Beautiful said.  “There’s so much to talk about.”

    “No,” Great-Saint said firmly. “I intend to be home before sunset.  Empty stomach for walking—and Mom’s broiled fish for dinner.” 

    “Broiled fish,” Beautiful sighed.  “Miss Cheerful’s stew would be so much better with fish in it.”  She wrinkled her nose, then giggled.

    Great-Saint placed his hands on Seeker’s shoulders.  “Seeker, I like you.”  Then he turned to Beautiful.  “Pack your bag, Beautiful, and come visit.  Tender-Hearted will be there too.  And bring Seeker.”

    “Great-Saint… can I really bring him?  Will Dad?  Will Mom…”

    Great-Saint turned back to Seeker.  “The journey can be hard.  I trust you to take care of Beautiful on the trip.  I’ll introduce you as my friend.”

    He took Beautiful’s hand in one of his and Seeker’s in the other.  “The rest will be up to you.”  He met Seeker’s gaze.  “Don’t doubt.  If the King truly sent you to Beautiful, it will all work out.  My parents will give their blessing.”

   With those words, he turned and headed south on the Narrow Way—and was gone.

    Seeker didn’t say a word as the crowd slowly left—even the sheep seemed unusually hushed.

   Beautiful turned to him.  “What’s your plan for today?”

   “Not sure, baby.  Maybe a bit of reading in the tower.  Anything new you’re working on?”

    “I’m bored, Seeker,” she said, sticking out her lower lip in a pout.

   “What’s new, Beautiful?  You’re always bored.” 

   “Let’s do something fun,” she said.  “Some kind of adventure.  Like we used to.”

    “How about the stream?” he asked.

   “Boring,” she said flatly.  “Besides, we went there last night.  It’s so much more fun in the Dream, where we can splash without getting wet.”

   “Getting wet’s the point of water.”

   “That’s easy for you to say,” she said. “You don’t have long, curly hair like me.”  She emphasized the word curly.  She knew he adored her curls.  She always knew how to win.

    A young shepherd boy ran up to them, breathless, with scraps of paper flapping in one hand and a stub of charcoal in the other.  Black smudges streaked his cheeks and nose.  “Ma’am, ma’am,” he called to Beautiful, “Draw a picture?”

    “Miss,” she snapped.

    The boy didn’t hear her—or didn’t care.  He turned to Seeker instead, eyes wide and eager.  “Sir, just a couple of coins.  Mama’s sick.  Draw a picture of your wife?”

    “Just call me Seeker—”

    “Not his wife… yet,” Beautiful said, ruffling his hair.

    Then she sat, folded her hands in her lap, tossed back her hair, and tilted her head slightly.

    The boy couldn’t have been more than ten—but he was good.  He sketched slowly, carefully, while Beautiful posed with a soft smile.  The proportions were right.  The shading was—flawless, really.  Now and then, the boy glanced up.  First at her.  Then at Seeker.

    When the boy finished, he handed the sketch to Seeker.  It was beautiful.  Clean lines.  Balanced shading.  But something felt… off.  He couldn’t quite place it.  His brow furrowed.

    Beautiful snatched it from his hands.  “This doesn’t look like me at all.”  She studied the drawing, then looked at Seeker.  Then back at the paper.  “It looks more like him than me, you little rascal.  Only—” She burst out laughing.

    “Begging your pardon, ma’am,” the boy said, glancing at Seeker, then back at her.  “I drew your daughter, not you.”

    Beautiful’s mouth fell open.  A tear slipped down her cheek.

   “Wait…” she said softly, holding the picture closer.  “You mean you—combined us?”

   The boy just grinned.

   Seeker blinked.  Not Beautiful.  Not him.  A little of both.

    “I think it’s wonderful,” Seeker said, his voice barely above a whisper.

    Beautiful pulled a silver coin from her handbag, pressed it into the boy’s hand, then curled his fingers around it.  “Your mama’s going to be okay,” she said.  “If she doesn’t get better soon, bring her to the Cottage.  You know where that is, right?”

    The boy nodded.

    “If she’s too sick, you come,” Beautiful added.  “Ask for Beautiful.”  She hesitated, then added, “Or Miss Cheerful.  One of us will come help her.”

    The boy gave a deep, awkward bow, then scampered off.

    Seeker stood there, gazing at the picture for a long time.

    “I love it,” he said at last.

    “Me too,” she replied, squeezing his hand.

    Seeker and Beautiful sat together in the pasture, listening to Kind teach, his voice ringing clear over the morning calm.  She leaned against Seeker, holding his hand tightly, hanging on every word Kind said. 

   Kind paused, looking out over the Pilgrims gathered.  A nearby sheep bleated.  “Remember, husbands:  you should love your wives, the same way the Prince loved the flock.  He laid down his life for it.”

      Faint-Resolve sat next to him.  Seeker stood and turned toward him.  “How are things at the Slough?”    

    Faint-Resolve smiled—just enough to soften his usual gruffness. “Nothing’s the same since Companion left.  Not much longer and my time here is up, too.”

   Beautiful waved at Gracious, then paused to chat with Miss Fair-Glance.  After a minute or two, she smiled and waved goodbye.

    Faint-Resolve’s eyes trailed after Miss Fair-Glance as she walked away.  A wave of fury burst from Beautiful.  Seeker had never seen her like that before.  Her blazing eyes nearly blinded him.

   She leveled her gaze at Faint-Resolve.  “Didn’t you hear a single word Kind said?” she shouted, trembling in rage. 

   Faint-Resolve looked back at her, confusion clouding his face.

   “Don’t try to act innocent,” she snapped, pointing straight at him.  “You know what you’re doing.  Everyone does.  But most of all, your wife knows.”

    Faint-Resolve’s face paled.  “It’s not like that,” he said quietly. “She reminds me of my wife.  When she was young.”

    Beautiful stood tall, her feet planted firmly, fists on her hips.  She barely reached Faint-Resolve’s shoulders. But somehow, she towered over him.   Seeker shifted uneasily.  Gracious laughed nervously.  Tirzah just nodded.  Kind beamed at her, like a daughter he was proud of.  Seeker felt sorry for Faint-Resolve.  Beautiful was humiliating him.

    “You humiliate your wife,” she continued.  “She would die of shame.   At least be a man about it—look at Fair-Glance straight on.  Not out of the corner of your eyes.  Like a thief stealing just a bite of bread.”

    “I. I. I…” he stammered, “I love my wife.”

    “Is that how the Prince loves his flock?” she demanded.

    “I’m sorry,” he said.  His voice cracked.  Seeker believed him.

    “Don’t apologize to me.  Beg the King for forgiveness.  Beg your wife.”

    The storm had passed.  A tender look crept into her eyes.  “Yes.  She can forgive.”  She paused a heartbeat.  “She will forgive.  There is always forgiveness.”

   All the color had drained from Faint-Resolve’s face.  “Thank you, Miss Beautiful,” he said quietly.  “I will remember your advice.  I promise.”

    He kept his promise.  And from that day on, no one called him Faint-Resolve again.

    Seeker leaned in and kissed Beautiful goodnight, right there in front of the cottage.  She would never get over how good that felt—the soft press of his lips, the way the spring air seemed to hush around them.  The perfect end to a perfect day.

   “I love you,” he said.

   Beautiful pursed her lips, already feeling the irritation welling up.  “Me too,” she whispered. 

    His eyes said he wanted more.  How many times had she told him?  But not everything needed to be said aloud.  He needed to learn to feel her heart.  She loved him—dearly.  He said it with his mouth, but she shouted it with her heart.  He was capable of feeling it—no, he did feel it.  So why ruin the perfect day?

    She knew exactly what came next.  She had counted—he’d asked her six times, and six times she’d said yes.  Well, maybe not with her mouth.  But he should just know.  There was no other man in her life but him.  And there never would be.

    “Beautiful, I want you to be my wife.”

    Wife!  How sweet that sounded—somehow, she had known it from the very first day.  So why did he have to put it into words?  Her temper flared.  Sometimes he could be a dumb little baby.  No—she stopped herself.  That was his word now.  She was his baby, and he was her strong Odysseus.

    She’d spoken to Gracious about this.  “Sometimes you need to tell men straight out,” Gracious had said.  She couldn’t imagine Steadfast being this impossible.  Maybe she’d give it a try—nothing else seemed to work.

    She took Seeker’s hand and led him into the cottage, to the hearth, where she sat in front of the fire, and pulled him down beside her.

    “Seeker, I love you with all my heart.  I will be your wife.  I will be with you.  Forever.”   She sighed.  That wasn’t so bad—maybe Gracious hadn’t been completely wrong after all.  Still, she couldn’t quite picture Gracious treating Steadfast like this.  Seeker looked so happy.  And she was so happy, too.

    Then the familiar sadness washed over her.  How could she make him understand?  She’d struggled with this for so long.  What he asked for was impossible.  Yes, she would always love him.  But being his wife was an unreachable dream.  But maybe.  Just maybe.  At least he could share her pain.  He always did.  He always understood her.

    “But Seeker,” she said at last.  “You are asking the wrong person.  I’ve always known I would marry you—from that first time, when I made you the sandwich.”

    You have to win my parents’ hearts.  I can’t.  No, I won’t marry you without their permission.  And that’s impossible, you know.”  There.  She had said it—aloud, with words.

   Seeker laughed.  Hadn’t he heard what she’d just said?

   “They will love me.”

   She gazed deep into his eyes, then sighed and leaned against him, the fire roaring merrily.  

    Her doubt was gone.

    The next morning, she chose her plainest dress.  No perfume.  She considered leaving her hair wild—like Miss Cheerful.  But Seeker loved her curls.  Let him look at them one last time.  When this was over, she’d talk to Kind.  More selfishness.

    She spent all morning thinking where to tell him.  Someplace that meant nothing to him.  Nothing to her either.  She couldn’t bear that.

    She set out a plate, then another beside it.  One last breakfast before he was gone—her final act of selfishness.  He stood in the doorway.  Tall.  Strong.  Defiant.  Not the sad boy from her dream.   Good.  That would make this easier.  Her heart ached with love for him.  At least she’d have this image—to hold on to when everything else was gone.

    He didn’t touch the plate.  Just beckoned.  Headed for the door—toward the Tower.  No.  Not there.  She caught his hand, tugged him off course—away from the Tower.  Away from the stairs.  And definitely not the stream.

    His hand resisted—just for a second.  But he followed.  Through the wheat fields.  Where they first smiled.  No.  Not here.  Across the Narrow Way stood an abandoned farm.  Here.  Broken fences.  Weeds choking the ground—like the words caught in her throat.

    “Seeker, this isn’t working.  Leave.  Forget about me.  Be happy.”  It was done.  Not beautiful.  But it served.

    He stood there, his eyes as cold as ice, as hard as steel.  “Good.  I don’t need you.  I don’t love—”

    She gasped cutting him off mid-sentence.  Then the tears came—loud, broken, unstoppable.  How could he?  Her last ray of hope—gone.  She crumpled, shuddering.

    His arms wrapped around her—strong, unmoved.  “Don’t cry, Beautiful.  You’ll be fine.  There are a million men who’ll love you.”  No sympathy in his voice.  Just arrogance.  She stayed in his arms.  Just for a breath.  Even this pain—she’d hold on to it.  Then he pushed her away.

    “Goodbye,” he said, with finality as he turned away.

    She collapsed.  Briars bit into her palms.  Only then did she feel it—the bitter January cold.  A thorn caught on his ragged jacket and tore it with a harsh sound.  She saw him shiver.

    She’d done this to him.  Made him a man.  But she’d shattered the heart of the poor boy she loved.  There was nothing to cherish in this.  Nothing she could live with.  She had to make it right.  Then she remembered.  The jacket she’d sewn for him.  In secret.

   “Seeker—Seeker, wait…” she called after him, pleading.  “I can’t stand to see you cold like this.”

   “Please Seeker,” she whispered, voice trembling.  “Before you leave me… I have something I want you to have.”

***

    Seeker sat next to the hearth, wooden cup trembling in his hands.  He took a sip of the spiced wine—still warm.  She’d poured it before slipping away upstairs.

    He’d had hours to prepare.  To harden his heart—be the man she wanted him to be.  Had he convinced her?  Maybe she would stay.  But now he wanted to cut out his own tongue for those cruel words.  He wasn’t prepared for her response.  It had taken everything—everything—not to fall apart with her.

    She appeared with a coat in her hands.  “I made this for you.”

   It was soft and warm, the seams stitched with small, careful precision.  It fit him perfectly.  She beamed.

    “Can we try it out?” she asked sweetly.  “Take me to see the cascades—I hear they are frozen.  And beautiful.”  A mischievous grin lit across her face as she dashed for the door.  “Try to keep up!” she called over her shoulder.

    It was as if nothing—absolutely nothing—had happened that morning.  He would never understand her.  Not in a million years, but he loved her. 

    And in that moment, he made up his mind.  He would never let her go again.  Ever.

***

    The days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, until spring returned to the Realm of the Interpreter.  Seeker and Beautiful were always together—and never once tried to leave each other.

    Now and then, Seeker would ask Beautiful to be his wife.  Sometimes she said yes.  But by day’s end, it always turned to no, and a quiet sadness would return to her eyes.  Yet no harsh words ever passed between them.

    And so, the days passed, and their love and devotion only deepened.  She never once removed the ring with its seven radiant diamonds.  To Seeker, she remained as much a mystery as ever.

    Seeker waited for Beautiful to come down from her room.  She never did.  Will she meet me in the dream?  She did, but something was off.  Outside, winter had arrived—but in the dream, autumn clung to the trees.  Reds, golds, and oranges still flamed on every branch.  And yet, the colors looked faded.  Dimmed.  No birds sang.  Not one.

    They visited all their places—the stream, the waterfalls, the orchard…  but something was missing.  Every step felt… hollow.  No spark.  No fire.  Only the ache in his chest, sharp and hot.  

    There’s got to be something I can say.  He racked his brain.  I got nothing.

    They sat in silence for a long time.  Then Beautiful turned to him.  “Seeker, I have something to tell you.”

    Finally.  She loved him.  He knew that.  But something was wrong.  Maybe now she’d say what it was.  He ran through everything again.  Nothing came to mind.  What did I miss?

    “But not here,” she said softly.  “I can’t do this to you here.”

    The blood drained from Seeker’s face.  She’s going to leave me.  He opened his mouth to speak—to plead.  He reached for her hand—but she was gone.  Just like that.  

    Alone.

***

    Beautiful had made up her mind.  Kind’s words still echoed in her heart.  She was selfish—wanting Seeker’s love so desperately.  Greedily.  But she couldn’t give all of herself.  Not yet.  Maybe not ever.  He deserved more.  There were so many beautiful Pilgrims—girls who would love him better than she ever could.

   She went to him that night.  She wanted to savor every moment.  Stretch the time.  Burn it into her memory, every glance, every laugh.  But her guilt ruined it all.

    She’d be cruel.  Make him hate her—so he could forget.  He’d move on.  And she would carry her love in silence.  Alone.  What would it be like… seeing him with someone else.  Another girl… hand in hand.  No.  She couldn’t even picture it.  It was too much.

    As they sat in silence, she turned the words over in her mind.  Not here.  Not this place.  Not our dream.   It had to stay untouched—sacred.  A place to return to.  To cry.  Guilt surged again.  Still thinking about herself.  Still not about him.  But she needed this much.  Tomorrow, she promised herself.  I’ll tell him tomorrow.

    Seeker lay still, the sun warming his skin through the diamond-paned windows.  For a moment, everything felt perfect.  Then he sat up, heart racing.  He hadn’t met Beautiful in their dreams last night.  It was the first night they hadn’t shared a dream since he saw her in the wheat field.  Had she waited for him by the stream?  What would she think?  She’ll understand.  She always does.

    He hurried down to the common room.  She wasn’t there yet.  He set out a plate for himself and placed another beside it.  When he looked up again, she stood in the doorway, her posture graceful, shoulders back, yet her eyes were swollen.  She’d been crying.

     She moved gracefully across the floor and settled beside him.  Her hand found his, soft and gentle.  But sadness flowed from her touch.   He had sensed her sadness that first day.  But nothing like this.

    “Beautiful, I’m sorry,” he said quickly.  “I don’t know what happened.  How long did you—”

    She lifted a finger, silencing him.  “Seeker, I couldn’t… I can’t—”  Her voice cracked, dissolving into a sob.   She tried again, softer, heartbroken.  “Seeker, I can’t marry you.”

    Her words hit like a slap.  “What?  Why?”  His voice rose edging out the hurt.  “You were happy—we were happy!  What happened?  What did I do wrong?”  He stared at her, bewildered.  “You didn’t even ask why I wasn’t there.  It’s not like I stayed away on purpose!”

    Lightning flashed in her eyes, fierce and beautiful.  “Listen, Seeker,” she demanded.  “Stop trying to put everything into words.  Feel my heart.  You have to learn how to feel my heart!”

    The fire in her eyes vanished as quickly as it came.  She leaned in, pressed a kiss to his forehead, then tugged gently on his hand.  “Come on,” she whispered.  “Let’s not be late to Kind’s teaching.”

    The diamonds on her finger caught the light—and his eye.  His chest tightened.  What kind of game was this?

***

    They walked the Narrow Way, hand in hand—but this wasn’t the Beautiful he knew.  She didn’t try to run ahead.  She felt distant, like she was somewhere else entirely.  Her steps had no life in them.

   “Hurry up, slowpoke,” he teased.  No response.  Not even that flash of lightning in her eyes.

    He was miserable.  He wanted to say something—hold her, comfort her.  But everything he did just seemed to make it worse.

    He was relieved when they reached the pasture.  Kind hadn’t started teaching yet.  Seeker chose a spot near the back.  She sat down beside him and nestled close with a soft sigh.  He’d learned the secrets of the ancients in the tower—but he’d never figure her out.  No, not in a thousand years.  Her hand gripped his arm so tightly it hurt.  He didn’t pull away.

    Kind read from his Book, “Do nothing through contention or vainglory, but in meekness of mind let every man esteem others better than himself.  A faint smile touched Beautiful’s lips.  Kind glanced her way, voice gentle.  “Or every woman than herself.”

    Seeker felt the flutter in her chest where she leaned against him.  Kind spoke of the Prince, and she hung on every word.  He ended with, “Meekness isn’t thinking less of yourself.  It’s thinking of yourself less.”

    When Kind’s teaching ended, the distance crept back in.  They ate lunch together in silence.

    “Seeker, I’m tired,” she said quietly.  “I’m going to rest in my room for a while.”

    They stood in the doorway.   He couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Beautiful, I love you.  With all my heart.”

    “Me too,” she whispered.

He leaned in to kiss her.

    She turned, offering her cheek instead.