Dove Strong

by Erin Lorence

  Someone guffawed, and the tension broke. The clearing became a sudden hive of activity. Watching it, I realized no one from this new group was much older than me or the Benders.

  I tailed the girl in blue to where others threw backpacks, walking sticks, and themselves down on the green tufts. I touched the strange, thin material of her sleeve. “It’s weird. You know, that I’m not that old. And neither are you. And that kid over there’s about ten. God’s so surprising, calling who He does. He’s amazing, though. Don’t you think?”

  After glancing at the boy—the one with messy curls and a dust-streaked face—the girl in blue wiped the confusion off her face. She replied with that same tilted smile. “Unfathomable. Amazing. And awesome.”

  “Rebecca.” The dusty boy tapped two twigs of his armful together to get her attention. “Quit schmoozing. You’re fire queen, so get it going with that dry pile while we gather more wood. And don’t talk your way out of it this time.”

  “Hold on. We don’t do fire.” My hands formed an X, nixing the idea. Since that first night on Washington, we’d avoided bonfires.

  “Here.” Reed tossed some dried grass twists from his sack onto the pile of kindling. “We definitely do fire from now on. Good strategy to draw any others seeking the Council. The bigger our numbers, the better.”

  “Oh.” I hadn’t considered other Christians searching too.

  Rebecca patted my shoulder. “That’s what makes traveling together so worth it. All the different ideas—and talents and gifts. When we join together and share, we become—not only unshakable, but wiser and better. You know?”

  I shrugged, seeing her point. But it was hard to get worked up over that kind of teamwork.

  When the hovering trees darkened to match the sky, I sprawled between Stone and a fierce-browed girl who didn’t speak. The bonfire toasted my face and hands as well as the rabbit meat skewered on my branch. I didn’t even wince at the popping flames.

  Melody sat across from me, beaming into the blaze. I nodded back and felt some of my burden slip.

  OK, God. This was why You told us to not force our own way to the Council.

  The mute girl on my left crammed the last chunk of meat in her mouth. Then, after rubbing her fingers on the ten-year-old’s hair, who rammed her for it, she pulled some junk from her bag—including two pieced-together bark and wood objects. The kid next to her grabbed one away and patted the grass clumps around him until he found twigs.

  I bumped against Stone, removing myself from the swordfight zone. I have cousins—sticks plus kids equals weapons. But instead of fighting, both stick holders closed their eyes. Their hands began to move over the wood and bark pieces...and blur.

  An underlying beat and clattering rhythm echoed off the trees, filling the night and killing the conversations around the fire.

  The beat became a praise. Praises don’t have to be words, and this was a drumming soul worship. It lifted me higher to Heaven.

  But I slammed back down when the words started.

  “Jesus, Jesus, warrior Lamb!

  You will give us back our land,

  No more hiding at Your call,

  With Jesus we will conquer all!"

  Chills ran to my fingertips at the revelation that everyone who gathered here believed these words—believed we were going to war. To fight in Jesus’ name. To conquer.

  Passion painted Reed’s face. Next to him, Melody’s lips moved with the rest, repeating the refrain.

  But she didn’t believe we’d conquer. She and I, at least, recognized God wanted peace.

  I pulled my knees to my chest, cut off from the rest by the battle chant. Despite the fire’s drawing warmth, I wanted to slink off into the night.

  God would protect and bring me to the Council. I rummaged through the tangled ferns for my pack. My hand slipped through its strap.

  Not alone.

  I released it and breathed deep.

  Thank you. But what then, God? Do I stay to convince everyone here You want peace? And no matter what answers their families have mistakenly sent, they must deliver a message of peace? I can’t do that! When I talk, no one ever listens to me—

  “It’s Dove, right?” Rebecca hovered over me, tossing wood, piece by piece, into the fire. “What? The dove bird doesn’t sing?”

  I stiffened. She bit her lip. She wasn’t being judgy. Like Wolfe, she used humor.

  I created a spot for her between me and Stone. “I do sing when I want. In my head. God understands.” I leaned closer until I smelled the smoke clinging to her black strands. “I’m tone deaf.”

  She didn’t laugh at my confession but motioned at the little kid creating the rhythm. “That’s my brother. Josh. The most obsessive, music-addicted grub you’ll ever meet. And I promise if we let him in on your secret, by sunup he’ll have you playing something that doesn’t involve tone or pitch like you’ve been born doing it.”

  She tossed her full water bottle at his tapping foot. “Twenty-four-seven he’s either making music or trying to get everyone around him to. Pushy little guy.”

  The singing dropped, but the endless beat continued like waves of rain in a storm, gusting and pattering around us.

  I watched her brother’s hands. “That’s not natural. No one’s that good. That’s his God-given gift, then? The gift of music—worship?”

  She pulled my skewer around and slid off a piece of the blackened meat. When she burned her fingers and almost lost it to the ashes, she laughed. “You’re observant, for sure. So, do you have a…?”

  I lurched up, dropping our meal.

  Melody. I needed to see Melody—to better read that deer-eyed stare.

  Under my gaze, her torso pulled up like it wanted to spring away. It slumped, and she twisted her arms around her legs, trying to hide inside her own body.

  Melody? Where’s the threat?

  “Dove, what’s…?”

  I thrust my hand at Rebecca and saw Reed notice. He followed my concern back to the girl at his side.

  “People. Enough drumming.” He shook Melody’s elbow. “What? You feel something’s wrong?”

  When she didn’t respond, he pulled her stiffly to her feet, repeating himself.

  “Yes.” Her breathed affirmation hid itself under the pop of the fire and the steady, gentle drum roll. “Or...someone?”

  “Someone’s coming.”

  She nodded and blinked. Their eyes locked.

  “An enemy?”

  She started to bob again but hesitated. “I don’t know.”

  Reed held her upper arms. “OK. You’re not sure now. But it’s human—not an animal? It’s one or more humans in alliance with Satan?”

  I missed if she nodded because I’d closed my eyes to focus.

  I didn’t feel any approaching threat. None. Almost the opposite—I had a definite sense of anticipation. Goosebumps raced.

  Reed’s voice flowed like a current of strength across the uneasy, shifting circle. “Be prepared to run if you can’t fight. Stone and I’ll draw whatever this is to ourselves. There’s an empty den with creepers ten minutes northeast of here—seven if you’re running. Mel knows it, so keep with her. That’s where we’ll meet up.”

  I continued to listen for heavenly directions. Instead I heard a bird’s warble.

  “Ahhh. Fire, fire, fire. Waaarmth.”

  My stomach plummeted to my ankles. I opened my eyes in time to see Wolfe lurch from the blackness of the trees and into our circle of light.

  22

  The drum roll broke.

  Jezebel’s brother squinted, his wrong clothes and Heathen-style hair yelling nonbeliever. He rubbed his hands in front of him, warming them on the fire’s brightness.

  “Your smoke’s been like a mirage so long I gave up thinking it was real. I was supposed to get here before it got so dark. And cold.” His lids slid half-mast. “Fire, my friend. I love you, fire.”

  He spotted me. “Hey. Bird girl!”

  I was numb. Speechless. R
ooted as he moved my way.

  His hands dug around in the pockets of his blue and green jacket, until one surfaced holding my bee call. “Jezzy still had this when you took off, and I figured it might be important.”

  The tiny, tubular call dislodged and arced across the firelight. In the same moment, he fell to his knees and bent over in an extreme bow with his arms cranked behind him. Stone stood over him, holding his arms. The giant’s brother held a flint-like shard to the newcomer’s jugular.

  Wolfe resisted half a second. “Ow! What the—”

  “You’re trespassing on God’s people and are not allowed to speak.” Reed gestured Melody forward with his free hand. “This him?”

  “Yes.”

  Wolfe peered up through his dark strands at her. “Yeah? What? What did I—”

  “I said no talking.”

  I could’ve sworn Stone’s muscles didn’t twitch, but Wolfe grimaced. “Take it easy, big guy.”

  I glanced around at the frozen group, disgusted. Rebecca positioned herself defensively in front of her brother and leaned forward as if she might interfere.

  I was finished watching.

  “Dove.” Reed thrust his palm out. Up this close I could see the razor edge of the rock he held against the brown skin.

  I stopped in front of the trio. Then, before anyone could stop me, I knelt and slipped my fingertips under the weapon’s edge. They stung as I pulled the rock away from the hairbreadth line on the captive’s skin.

  “Dove.”

  I ignored Reed and kept my hand in place, separating rock from throat. “What are you doing here, Wolfe?”

  His answering smirk came slow and forced—unlike his speech that flew like hummingbird wings. “So I’m allowed to talk now? Because I was under the impression I’m supposed to shut up. You guys need to coordinate better. Because if you say it’s talk time and he doesn’t agree, guess who’ll be breathing out of a different air hole? Me, that’s who. Not you. Or him. So you all figure out this talking-or-no-talking dilemma and let me know.”

  “What—are—you—doing—here? Answer me, Wolfe.”

  He swallowed with a wince. “Like I said. I’ve got your whistle thing.”

  I shook my head. “Not good enough. The truth. You traced me a hundred miles and then hiked through this wilderness. Why?”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I don’t know! OK? Is that what you want to hear?”

  Startled, my hand shifted, but I caught the rock’s edge in time.

  Wolfe sucked in a breath and went back to the laughing tone. “You know, it seemed like I should probably find, I mean, after a dream like that, what else could I do? Which goes to show I’ve become as delusional as the rest of you if I’m obeying dreams about—” He broke off with a grimace. “Hey, hey, hey! Joking, big guy. Ease up.”

  I stood. “Let him go. The Lord’s guided him here. Even though he doesn’t have a clue. Plus, he believes he’s done me a favor. He’s returning something taken from me, so you’re wrong. He’s not an enemy. He’s a friend.”

  “A friend?” With a hard laugh, Reed yanked up my sleeve. I couldn’t break his grasp and everyone ogled the scab marring a huge chunk of my sword tattoo.

  He waved it in victory. “Friends don’t do that.”

  “Erggh!” Wolfe craned his neck to see his massive keeper. “Will you quit that? I swear I never touched her. Did I, Dove? I never touched you. That wasn’t me that did that. Tell them.”

  While I lowered my sleeve, I remembered his arm around me, pinning my shoulders while we faced Diamond. “He didn’t hurt me. That was someone else.”

  Reed pulled Melody forward. “And her? Did you harm her?”

  Wolfe hesitated. He had tackled her to the ground. Twice. “I...er...don’t recall.”

  “Enough, Reed.” Hands on hips, chin raised, I faced him. “Release him. We’re still at peace with nonbelievers, so he’s not a prisoner. Plus, he’s done nothing wrong.”

  Reed spoke over me, as if I were a chirping cricket. “Get the coils of rope from my sack, Melody. Two of them.”

  As she obeyed, I realized how brainless I acted, wasting my energy on the wrong person. On the wrong brother.

  Over Wolfe’s bowed head, Stone met my gaze. I reached out my hand and found his—the one that secured both of Wolfe’s wrists. Stone’s skin warmed my chilled fingertips.

  Then the miracle happened. The iron tendons and muscles relaxed under my touch, until I felt Wolfe jerk away. Wolfe hightailed it for the black wall of trees. I hoped he wouldn’t slow until he touched pavement.

  He stopped short. “Bunch of psychos!”

  I dropped my hand and backed away until I stood in front of him at the clearing’s edge. “This non-Christian won’t hurt anyone. Can’t you understand this is God’s doing? How else could he have found us? He hasn’t got the intelligence to do it on his own.”

  Reed stopped goggling at his brother. “You are so wrong, Dove. So. Dead. Wrong. All shed blood from this moment forward is on you. Every drop. Your fault. Remember that.”

  I blinked hard against the gory red his words conjured up, and shivered at the ice trickling down my spine. Then I straightened.

  “I’m good with that.”

  23

  After the warrior slipped away—saying something about setting snares to feed the thousands—I returned to the fire and watched the flames. It was easier than explaining my actions to the group who watched with raised eyebrows.

  “You gone yet?” I threw over my shoulder. But I knew Wolfe wasn’t. I heard him breathing from next to the giant mass of rhododendrons.

  “Uh, I thought I’d wait until the sun comes up to go?”

  “Then it’s going to be a long night for you over there. Cold too. Don’t be a scaredy squirrel. They won’t touch you.” I glared around at the others. You’d better not. I glared the longest at Stone. He inclined his head and pretended to skewer meat he’d secured earlier.

  Wolfe grumbled something I didn’t catch, something like, “As if every night hasn’t been a long night since you.” He released a lungful of air the way people do before acting out in faith.

  He plopped down next to me, reaching toward the blaze. “Could it be any colder?”

  The girl next to him shifted away, and Rebecca nudged her brother. The drumming revved up while two boys argued over which leaves make better beds, their eyes flickering to me.

  I turned my back on them all. “Cold? Um. You’re on a mountain? Be grateful. If we’d camped any higher you’d be whining about the snow right now.”

  He shuddered. “Sure. Tomorrow morning I’ll do my touchdown dance and celebrate that my fingers are still attached. Even though my toes lay in a black, frostbitten heap next to me.”

  Stone glared at the sizzling meat. Wolfe’s gaze turned from him to Josh’s drumming hands and Rebecca, slouched and appearing to watch them.

  Wolfe turned toward Melody and the girl asleep next to him. “So. These are the ones you’re saving, huh? Or did you do it already?”

  Stone’s and Rebecca’s heads swiveled like weathervanes in high wind.

  I ducked mine. “Shh. Don’t talk about it. Since it’s, uh, complicated. And I’m not sure. But speaking of other Christians, last I heard you thought they—we—were monsters. Makes you pretty brain dead to go to all that work finding me. Since all we do is attack people and set things on fire.”

  Wolfe threw his head back and let loose, stopping when I stood to leave. “Hey, was I wrong? In case you missed it, your boyfriend over there didn’t hold my hands because of my soft skin. He about took my arms off. And his little compadre was pretty stab happy with his knife.”

  “Not a knife.” I sat back down. “A rock. And he’s not my boyfriend.”

  “So?”

  Stone rose and slipped away between the same trees his brother had.

  My teeth released my lower lip. “So. Why risk coming here? For real this time. You said something about a dream. Was that why you came? Bec
ause of your dream?”

  “And like you said, let’s not talk about it because it’s complicated. I dream a lot, so I doubt this one’s something to get worked up over. But if you want to talk dreams, there was this one I had when I was ten. They called me Ninja Wolfe.”

  I covered my ears. “Forget it. Instead tell me, how’d you know I’d be here on Jefferson? I for sure didn’t tell you. And I’m willing to bet my life Melody didn’t. You track us?”

  He jerked up his jacket collar. Caught.

  “That’s it, then. But how did we not see you?” Or sense you? Melody’s lids drooped as she stared into the fire. Was she slipping? Was her gift weakening?

  “As soon as you all took off that night, I remembered your whistle. So I grabbed Bo and booked it after.”

  I chucked a maple seed pod at him. It fell short and helicoptered to the ground. “You! It was you with the dog that first night! You know you scared us off a cliff with all that barking?”

  “Yeah? Sorry. I hadn’t thought of that.” He pulled an apologetic face that fell way short. “We gave up in the downpour and went home. Good thing, though, because I ran into Jezebel, on her way to join us. Totally lost but wouldn’t admit it, of course.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, you should bite your nail. Just so you know, she considers you a big, fat traitor, abandoning her like that and running off. It seems you broke the sacred sister bond thing you two share. And the next morning—”

  “You mean the next morning after your dream.”

  “Er, OK, after that I went back to where I’d lost your trail and wandered around and then out of nowhere this raggedy homeless guy showed up. And he, well, he reminded me a lot of you.”

  A raggedy homeless guy. In the woods the day after the rainstorm. Samuel, no doubt. With his black-rimmed nails, discolored beard, and filthy clothes.

  “Flattered, Wolfe. Thanks.”

  “Well, if you took a shower more than once every—how old are you? Fifteen? Sixteen? If you took a shower more than once every sixteen years...” He broke off, shoulders shaking.

  I turned away with a frown. Rebecca grinned too, although not in my direction. Her brother must’ve said something I hadn’t heard. Something funny.