Pinchas sneers, rolls his eyes, and stops me with the palm of his upraised hand. “Consulting your body is ridiculous. Decisions are made by the consideration of affairs. Men are aware of that.”
I draw back. Anger fills the deepest parts of me. I want to be close and shake my fist in his face. Instead, I stand there.
“The women of your tribe told you. Your ima.” His voice drips with scorn.
“My ima is a grand woman. She works hard and is amazing and bright.”
“Your ima told you how to make decisions. No wonder.”
I stare at him. “I said it was the women of my tribe.” I grit my teeth. He is trying to make a fool of me.
“Women. Of course, no man would make such a declaration.”
Disgust covers his face. His words make me squirm. The villagers showed me that sort of face enough times to recognize its meaning. His wife turns away.
“My thoughts have changed, and I will leave you in peace.”
“Did your heart tell you so?”
His laugh is wicked. I pick up my things and go to the tree to collect my tunic. The crunch of footsteps makes me turn. It is Pinchas. I step back.
“A bit of advice. If you wish to get along in this life, do not talk about what women say. Your tribal women may mean well, but you must listen to the men. They distinguish between truth and fancy.”
He is like the men of my tribe who turned me out. “Many women are strong and clever. They are as courageous as men.”
“How dare you speak to a man in this tone of voice? Go. Now.” Pinchas shakes his head and stomps off a moment before Carnia comes out of the hut.
“Men do not always understand the way of women. I am sorry if my master made you feel unsafe.”
The one person I ever saw so alone and desolate as Carnia was Ima after a fight with Abba. Does Pinchas beat Carnia? My father never beat Ima, but they fought and yelled so loud the whole village heard them. He called her disgusting and hurtful names. I cried the tears she should have.
What did I do? Will his anger make trouble for Carnia? She returns to the hut, her feet heavy into the ground, her back bent as if her entire being is in pain. There is nothing I can do. I want to speak but cannot.
The still damp tan dress goes in the sack. Wagging my head helps my curls dry. I scurry down the trail to get away from the humiliation choking me. I made things worse. I spoke up and had another failure with a different family.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I reach the meadow and take time to walk through the flowers. They are as beautiful as when I first saw them. The sun has begun its journey downward, and I hurry to the trail. The turquoise orb appears but does not bend to present the cloud. The colors surrounding Sandalphon are brighter than usual.
“You are doing well.”
“I am glad you are here. You do not understand how much I needed you.”
“Why would I not? You had to embark upon this trip on your own, to depend on your instincts. Your time with Pinchas was not happy but it was good learning.”
I turn away. “It was more than difficult.”
“You have a ‘poor me’ part of you. Do you need sympathy?”
“You are being mean. I failed again and feel like an orphan.”
The orb moves away. “Your parents are alive and Pinchas a passing encounter. You began to prove you can survive.”
I look at him. “That is true. I guess.”
“Something made you want to stay.”
“The longing came back. There is a part of me that is miserable and wants a family. What did I prove? My instincts were wrong. I want to go home.”
The cloud swirls. “Is it your family you need? You were not happy at home, so why would you want to go back?”
“They take care of all my needs.”
“Do you not think that is self-serving? Would you expect a new family to do the same?”
My face is hot from the tears I hold back. “I could have been more helpful.”
“Is that the whole truth?”
“I avoided helping as much as I could.”
“Why?”
I walk away. “I was angry. They refused to give me permission to make new tunes or talk to the women.”
“You made them angry.”
He surprises me. “Perhaps what you say is true.”
The cloud is at my side. “The decision to leave Pinchas shows your instincts were right.”
“I did not want to be around a man like him.”
“You made a valuable conclusion. You recognized a clash for humans, a strong divide between two parts of you having wants and needs and creating a battle.”
“What do I do if they fight?”
“You will learn.”
“How will I learn?”
“I cannot say. You will arrive in Urusalim and meet with Abram. He will tutor you. He is the first Hebrew, an immigrant, and a wise man. You have a long journey ahead and it is not to be hurried. You will learn much.”
I shake my head. “Why a Hebrew?”
“His family worshiped many idols, like your parents. And like your parents, he now prays to the One God who cannot be seen.”
“What does that mean?”
“God is invisible, so no one can create a picture or form.”
Does he know I took Eshmun? “Oh, I knew that. But, why Urusalim?”
“Abram is now consulting with Melchizedek.”
“Why would I want to meet him?”
“You might choose to admire someone like Abram or his wife Sarai, or you may choose your own path.”
“And who is Melchi . . . whatever his name is.”
“He is known as the Righteous One. All your questions will be answered. The timing must be proper. Be aware you follow in the footsteps of a great man.”
“I do not understand, but I will obey.” Sandalphon’s tinkling fades away. Abram is a great man. Could it be I have a future ahead of me?
Because of Pinchas, I forgot to fill my skin. It is light on my shoulder, and I pray a stream is not too far. Both Ima and Carnia discount their own needs. Who put men in charge, so women have no chance to speak? We have opinions. Carnia is like my ima. They are twigs in the wind, always bending in the same direction as their man.
The Council knew of my promise, and I prayed they would let me stay. They did not. How do I trust anyone or anything? I have no idea of my next step.
Flashes of light between the branches catch my eye. It is too soon for the sun to vanish. A stillness enters the top of my head and fills me down to my toes. “Thank you, my dearest friend.”
I lie down on the soft ground. The blue of the sky is above me and my arms reach to the sides and take in the fresh sensations of peace. It gives me new words to consider. “Be still inside,” it says. “And remember, all is well.” What does that mean? I sit up. I must keep moving. Loneliness creeps up and grows heavier. How can all be well alone in the middle of the forest? Fear is weightier than loneliness.
I wake from the night’s sleep in a tree and stretch out my back. The log was more comfortable. My first consideration is the recent happenings. Ima and Carnia convinced themselves that all was agreeable. I choose to face the truth.
My arms, confined all night by the branches, stretch out into the cool of the morning air. Being surrounded by the fresh aroma of foliage brings a measure of calm. Down from my roost, my walk is slow. I make a game of trying not to rustle even one leaf by raising my arms and sliding sideways between the bushes.
My cloud spoke of a new life. My destination is ahead, and the journey could be successful. I crave the lightness of a new happiness. Cheerful thoughts do not help the sorrow go away. My belly will not tolerate much food. I sit to enjoy a bite of Ima’s bread and cheese and complete the meal with one bite of a fig cake. The swish of grass, the crack of a broken twig, and movement of leaves startle me. Two dark eyes shine from behind the panthera’s dripping snout and sleek coat of yellow with black spots.
The ca
ke falls from my hand. If he smells the provisions, will he kill me or steal my sack and leave me with no food? The animal’s whooshing sounds are low to the ground. The blade Nathan gave me is in the sack. I cannot reach it without drawing the panthera’s attention.
Long ago, Nathan told me that one of the men spoke of dangerous animals. “Do not stare into their eyes, for that will infuriate them. He also said not to move any part of yourself.” I will stay like a stone. I lie down and attempt to play dead.
The panthera sweeps by, his fur tickling my right arm. The fur is warm and soft, reminding me of playing with the sheep as a child. His low grunts make me shiver. Where did he go? The whooshing is back. His sniffing moves with painful deliberateness up and down my left side. The warmth from his nostrils makes me quiver.
With my eyes squeezed tight, I call for Sandalphon but do not move a muscle. The animal nuzzles my feet, but I do not even twitch my nose. The danger is real. My thoughts are stupid. I will be fine. I will survive. He licks the last of the dried blood. Or will I? Please, let him not want more. Sandalphon, someone, anyone, help.
The panthera is over me. His four legs grip both sides of my body. His hot breaths are on my face. He sniffs me up and down. Stops at my neck. His snout roams about my hair. His warm spittle drips on to my lips. I tighten them. The thought of his spittle in my mouth makes me nauseous. Think about something else. Will he tear me to pieces? No, not that.
My arms. He is at my arms. Licks each finger. I must not stiffen. That is also stupid. If I take in less air will he think I am dead? Or will he finish me? I tighten my toes, my thighs brace, ready to run. That is ridiculous, he moves faster. Pictures of the family flash by and I wish I could spend time with them once more. I stay still and pray the panthera does not notice my shivering.
Time passes and I wait for what is next. He comes back and sniffs the whole of me again. Do not make him angry. It will be over soon. One way or another. There is sudden quiet. The stillness which should bring serenity, frightens me. Much more time goes by. What is his plan? I hear the swishes again. Which way does he go? Breathe. Breathe.
But I must hold my breath to hear the leaves move as he passes. There is no sound and I decide to look. He is nowhere to be found. I bury my head in the grass, my body free to shake and sob tears of release. I study the area. It is hard to imagine this peaceful place also holds so much terror. A long drink and the sack and skin go over my shoulder. I move forward. I was spared.
The sight of Sandalphon’s orb makes me glad for the company. ““Well done,” Sandalphon declares.
“It turned out well, but I still shake from the fright. You said you would help. Did you not understand I was terrified and alone? My life was in danger. Why did you not come?” I kick the fallen leaves.
“The helpless part is back. Do not lose heart. I am always with you. You wish for me to be here, but there are times when you need to work toward your desire.” I sit on the grass turned away from him. “Your mood is that of a child. You are a woman and must think for yourself. Trust I will be here but not always at your command. Now, what did you learn from the encounter with the leopard or panthera as you call him?”
“I was never so terrified in my life.”
“Ask yourself my question before you close your eyes. When you wake, it is possible you will know. We will finish then.”
When I wake up, the sun is crawling over the horizon. Down from the branches of my latest sleep space, the date cakes are even more delicious. There are only enough to last for a short while. Sandalphon is not yet here and I am glad to be alone.
“Here I am, Elisha.”
“I am sorry for being glad you were not here.”
“Do not be sorry. The thoughts are yours and precious, and you are entitled to a respite. What else happened with the leopard?”
“The dread brought fear and excitement and somehow, I am different.”
“In what way?”
“Just a moment, I am not sure.” I take my time. “Though I am small, something makes me seem taller. You would say I lived through it.”
“You did well. Remember, fear can warn that something is amiss. Its power can also have the ability to stop you from doing anything.”
“I did not show fear of insects like the girls. I chose to be daring like the boys.”
“Yes, Elisha. You must be bold and that takes courage.”
“That worries me, and I cannot be sure of peace in Urusalim. If I return to my village, it will be no different from before and the chance to study with Abram will be lost.”
“That is true. Know that I protected you from the animal.”
“You did that? What did I do? I was there, too, you know.”
The cloud twirls. “Fear did not overcome you and that changed the result.”
“What does that mean?”
“It was meant to be.” He lifts toward the sky.
“I did it myself,” I yell after him. “If it was truly protection, why did you allow it to happen at all? I do trust you, but . . .” Too late. He is gone.
I need to move on but decide to rest for a moment. An idea ‘connect with joy,’ comes to me like a command. It arrives with a brilliant light and a rush of energy. But it is too bold, and I am not worthy.
I gather leaves wet with dew and sit to clean my toe. More leaves remove the sweat on my brow. Not four strides later a voice brings me to a standstill. “Try again, one more time.” Not sure where it came from or if it was my own rashness, I wait.
“Yes, Elisha. It is Sandalphon. Do not give up because something does not work the first time.”
My jaw is tense and my lips are pressed together. I stand my ground on the forest floor. I take in one breath to relax and send it toward my heart. After a few more breaths my heart seems to grow full and opens like a flower. It’s petals unlock one at a time. The heaviness lifts to the top of my head and floats away. It reminds me of the time when the stillness came and assured me all is well.
I lie down and there is an awareness of floating in the air and still being connected to the ground. The weight of this experience touches me. There is a knowing in my bones that to be ready to explore what I must, I need to stand solid on this soil. That all I do, each of my thoughts, are precious and connected to a larger inspiration. The delight I feel readies me to walk until my legs can go no farther.
I down two fig cakes, gather my things, and am about to continue on when the sound of rowdy men reaches my ears. Sandalphon, please come back. I move to the next tree. The men yell at each other and laugh the same as the men at home who drink too much. That sends a chill through me.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Are these men the bandits Abba talked about? I force myself into action. I can climb the trees, but the leaves are too sparse to conceal me. The decision that must be made frightens me more than the panthera. Those men could be sneaking around, and if I run they can catch me. Their sounds grow louder. Then there is silence. My chest relaxes. They come closer and my chest clamps down.
More silence. Maybe they changed direction. Or are they sneaking closer? Another tree is near, and though not the highest, offers the most leaves. A booming sound breaks the stillness. “Here. This is perfect.”
I scramble up as high as I can. The branches scratch at me through the tunic. A perfect roost sits in the middle, the branch bigger than two men’s hands. It is easy to settle into the narrow slant it makes with the trunk. I hang the sack and skin on a different branch, then curl myself into a ball, pull more leaves in front of me, lie there, and wait.
They are quiet and I steal a glimpse between the leaves. “Hey, let’s stop here,” one of them yells. I pull back. The men stopped at the tree next to mine.
“Where is the food and wine? We are hungry and thirsty.”
“Just a little while more,” another answers. They sit to enjoy the meal. My mouth waters from the smell. They must have had a sizable amount of libation, they stagger all over. With elbows pressed into my si
des, I try to make myself smaller. The men’s laughter is boisterous and harsh. It could cover any sound I make but I cannot chance it. My throat is dry, and my water skin is out of reach. The voices move under my perch.
A branch snaps back and a twig makes a cut on my ear. I jump but do not risk making a sound. My spittle soothes the hurt. This spot is not as comfortable as I hoped. Where the branch becomes two, it pokes into my back.
One of them yells, “I can shoot my arrows farther than you.” They play with the bows and arrows shooting them into the trees. The knife is at the bottom of my sack and there is no way to defend myself.
“Perfect shot,” one yells. “Now over there,” another one says. They scream with laughter at each arrow leaving a bow. I grab my legs and pull them closer. No supplies are available to cleanse a wound or staunch the blood if an arrow hits me. Their cruel laughter is scary.
“See what I found. Someone left a woman’s tunic. Would anyone like to guess what happened?”
I peek out and see my tunic fell out of the sack. The one Ima stayed up the entire night to weave. The men below say nasty words.
“Here, get this,” one yells. They make a circle and with the points of their arrows throw my cover around. Over and over they catch and send Ima’s hard work. With each successful snare they share more drunken laughter. I am glad Ima is not here to see her efforts gone in a few moments. If they catch me, will that be my finish? I swallow hard. The end could be horrifying. What if they find me? I am not strong enough to stop one of them.
My eyes close and I curl over. Is this my fault? My back curves nearer to the branch, its jagged edges sticking into my skin. Please do not bleed. I pray my weight will not break the bough. These men are hunters.
“Hey,” one of them yells, “the sky changed.” They glance up. “There is an unfamiliar wind. We are going to get wet.”
My nose itches and I need to sneeze. They say it is a divine sign but now it is dangerous. My fingers creep up and knead my nostrils. Without warning the wind whips at my hair. The branches bash into my face. I fight them off. The rain soaks everything and I shiver. Did the end of the thirsting season need to begin now?
Mountain of Full Moons Page 5
