Thrown to the Wolves (The Faith in Peril Trilogy)

by Holly Newcastle

  “Just sit and rest. I’ll be back.”

  I grasped her sleeve. “But what if you both get lost? What if you don’t return?”

  “Nonsense. He’s no more than thirty feet away. We’ll be back shortly.”

  “I’ll look for leaves. It’s not right to rest while you’re working. I can do something. I’m not infirm.”

  “That’s the spirit,” she giggled, but I could no longer see her, as she had stepped away from me.

  For the first time that night, I smiled. Anna reminded me so much of Dat. She had always been a calm, steady girl. Her meek demeanor had earned her a great deal of respect amongst her peers and teachers, who found her to be an apt and dedicated pupil. She never questioned things or complained, accepting life without protest. I, on the other hand, questioned everything, wanting answers.

  Why can’t we wear patterned clothing?

  The Ordnung forbids it.

  Why can’t I play an instrument, like the flute or harp?

  Self-expression leads to pride. Our voices are all we need for music.

  Why can’t our clothing have collars, pockets, or ornamentation?

  Because this encourages pride and vanity. The path to heaven is through selflessness and obedience …

  I had grown up with a mild streak of defiance, which Mam had tried her best to temper, explaining that by design, the Ordnung brought us closer to God. Submission and accepting God’s will was true happiness, she said. I did not argue this point with her, but I felt justified in my questions, wanting to know why things were the way they were. The answers had not been as satisfying as I wished, but I hadn’t fought my mother, knowing that she too had asked the same questions in her younger years.

  My mind began to wander, drifting from thought to thought, while Jacob and Anna tramped through the woods, snapping branches beneath their feet. Molly had returned, the dog running back and forth, although I could not see her. The sound of her paws beating against the earth gave away her location. I gathered as many leaves as I could, knowing that whatever bed I made would be horribly uncomfortable.

  “I’ve got firewood,” said Jacob.

  “That’s good.” He had returned with Anna.

  “These can go around the fire.” Something thumped against the ground. “We need more.”

  “What about the water?” I asked. “Did you find any?”

  “There’s a small creek, but I didn’t want to go down. It’s even darker there. We can visit it in the morning.”

  I licked my dry lips, feeling parched. “That’s a shame. I’m thirsty.”

  “I’m thirsty too. Maybe once the fire’s made we can explore further. That way we’ll have light to guide us.”

  “That’s a marvelous idea.” I had begun to feel better about the ordeal, because we had taken charge of things, and we would soon have a place to sleep and a source of warmth and light. “What can I do?”

  “Find more rocks. Come with me.” She tramped off into the brush, her feet snapping twigs. “They’re hard to find, but small ones are everywhere. You can feel them with your feet.”

  I could see almost nothing; therefore, whatever Jacob did remained a mystery. The temperature had dropped, and I shivered. “I wish I had a shawl.”

  “Me too. None of us expected to be outside overnight.”

  Anna and I endeavored to find stones, although this proved to be an arduous task. I held the few I had, cradling the rocks within my apron. They clinked together as I walked. We placed these in a circle, while Jacob proceeded to rub two sticks together with a small pile of kindling beneath to catch a spark. He labored in this manner for a long time, the wood rubbing over and over. I sat with Anna, while he worked, barely being able to see him.

  “Do you need us to take turns?” I asked.

  “No, I’ve got it, I think.”

  “Don't hurt yourself,” said Anna.

  “I won’t. I’ve seen Dat do this. I know it’s gonna work.”

  My little brother had been a brave soldier today, not fearful in the least that we had been caught in the elements. I felt a measure of gratitude then, thanking God for having such a fine brother, who I felt a kinship with. Anna’s knee brushed mine. I reached out for her hand, closing my fingers around hers.

  “It’s going to be fine,” she murmured, squeezing me. “We’re together in this, and the Lord is watching over us. He wouldn’t lead us astray.”

  The snapping of a twig brought my attention to the forest, although I could only see shadows. “That must be Molly.”

  “Come here, girl,” said Anna. “Molly!”

  Bounding from the undergrowth, she emerged, scampering to us, rubbing against my back. “I should be very angry with you. You’ve been a naughty girl today. You’re a terrible guide dog.”

  “She thinks this is all play,” said Anna. “She’s in heaven.”

  The acrid smell of smoke filled the air. “Oh, Jacob!” I leaned forward, hoping to catch a glimpse of fire. “You’re getting it. I can smell it!”

  “It shouldn’t be much longer.” The sound of wood scraping upon wood continued, until small sparks flared. “It’s coming!”

  “What do we do?” asked Anna.

  “Nothing. I’m nearly there. It’s any second now.”

  “You’re really good at this, Jacob. Oh, thank God.” Having fire would be a blessing. Then we could wander off to find water, using the light to guide us.

  The aroma of burning wood filled my lungs. A series of sparks threaded through a small bushel of kindling, igniting it. I could see Jacob now, because the bundle had burst into flames. He deposited the fire into the center of the rocks, which had been filled with branches.

  “That should do it.” He added another branch or two. “Some of the wood is a little wet. Hope it’s still gonna work.”

  I wanted to hug him. “Oh, thank you, Jacob. We have fire.” And what a wondrous sight it was!

  Anna got to her feet. “Let’s look for the creek and then gather more wood.” She grasped the metal bucket. “We’ll need this.”

  “I’m all for that.” I scrambled to my feet, eager to be helpful.

  “I’m waiting here,” said Jacob. “I want to make this even bigger.”

  “You keep it going,” I said, patting him on the back. “You’ve done a fine job. Dat would be so proud of you.”

  “Ah, it was easy.” He grinned, flashing a missing tooth. “I told you I could do it.”

  Being able to see him clearly lifted my spirits. “I feel so much better with fire. It’s not as scary now.”

  The kindling had ignited into an all-out blaze, illuminating the surrounding trees, which did not look as forbidding or sinister as before. We had managed to find a spot between several oaks, with a flattened patch of space and enough room for the three of us to sleep. The rocks surrounded the blaze, although some had been placed crookedly. Before Anna and I left, Jacob started to arrange them better.

  I wandered into the woods with my sister, following closely, not wanting to lose sight of her. The glow of the fire reassured me, despite the fact that the surroundings remained dark. We would easily be able to find our way back. Molly had joined us, her raspy breathing filling the air, while branches snapped beneath her paws.

  “I think the water’s here somewhere,” said Anna.

  “I hope so. I’m parched.”

  “It should be fresh enough, but it’ll still require boiling. I certainly don’t want to take any chances.”

  A bush shook nearby, making me jump. “Oh! What was that?”

  “Just an animal.”

  “I don’t like this at all.”

  “Me either, but what can we do?”

  Continuing our quest, the sound of something trickling captured my attention. “I hear it!”

  “I do too, but goodness, it’s dark.”

  The flames of the campfire remained visible at a distance, flickering between the branches. “Let’s hurry so we can return.” Molly had gone ahead, and we j
oined her moments later by the water's edge. She had lowered her head to drink. “How deep is it?”

  “It’s very shallow. Come stand here. I’m on some rocks.”

  My feet encountered a slick surface, and I worried I might slip. Anna had knelt, cupping her hands to wash her face. The break in the foliage over our heads had left an opening for the moon, which provided a hazy amount of light. The water felt cold and refreshing, as I dunked the bucket in to scoop it out. Molly’s growling brought me up short.

  “What?” The animal began barking. “What’s wrong, girl?”

  Anna grasped a rock, holding it in her hands. “There’s something over there!” she whispered. “I see yellow eyes!”

  The joy of having found water disappeared instantly. “No, Molly!” She growled nosily, scrambling up the embankment and disappearing into the bushes. “Molly!”

  Chapter Six

  A commotion occurred in the underbrush, the branches rustling. The low growl of an animal accompanied this disturbance. “Molly!” A high-pitched shriek sent a shiver down my spine, but it had not come from our pet. “Molly! What’s happening to you, girl?” She burst out of the foliage a moment later, ambling over to us. “What have you done, you silly dog? You’ll hurt yourself, if you don’t stop that.”

  “She’s fine, but we need to return to camp. I don’t like this.”

  Those words troubled me. Anna hadn’t felt this way earlier. “It was likely a raccoon or a skunk or some such creature. They all come out at night, don’t they?”

  “The fire will keep them away. Let’s go back now.” She held the bucket in her hand.

  “Come along, Molly. I’ll have to check her for bites. What if she was attacked?”

  “I don’t know,” murmured Anna. “It sounded strange. I need to sit and rest for a while. I’m weary of all of this now.”

  Reaching out, I took her arm. “I’ll help you back.” Our roles had reversed, as I offered her comfort. Whatever she had seen in the forest had bothered her. “It’s going to be fine. We’ll settle down for the night and then go home in the morning.”

  “Yes,” she murmured. “I hope so.”

  Jacob had doubled the size of the fire, the flames licking upwards in yellows and reds, flickering heartily, while giving off a tremendous amount of heat. I sat with Anna and Molly, who I began to examine for scratches and bites. I could find nothing in her fur to indicate a wound and she did not bleed. The bucket sat in the flames, and the water would boil soon, so we could drink it.

  I patted Molly’s head. She seemed relaxed at that moment, gazing at me with her tongue hanging from the side of her mouth. “You’re an impossible dog. You’re going to get yourself into trouble if you’re not careful.”

  “I don’t think the leaves will help much,” said Anna, touching them with her fingertips. “There’s no padding.”

  “They’ll keep us from getting wet, because the dirt’s damp, but nothing more. We’ll be sore come morning.”

  She sat with her arms around her knees, her look resigned. “You’ve made a good fire, Jacob. It’s perfect. At least we’ll be warm.”

  “I told you I could do it.” He got to his feet, reaching for the walking stick. “I gotta hit the privy. Then it’s off to bed for me. Who knows how long we’ll be able to sleep.” He sounded entirely grown up and not at all like a child.

  “Dat would be proud of that fire, Jacob,” I said, smiling at him.

  “He’s the one who taught me. I learned it all from him.”

  I smiled, fighting tears suddenly, but they were from joy and gratitude, because I had been blessed with a smart and helpful brother. “Be careful, and don’t go too far.”

  “I won’t.” He tramped off into the trees, disappearing, but we could hear him nearby.

  “We should try to sleep,” I said.

  “I’m thinking of taking the apron off and folding it for a pillow. It’ll be thin, but I don’t want my head directly on the ground.”

  “That’s a sound idea.”

  “Thank you.”

  “At least we’ve stockings on to protect our legs. It’s not raining, and it’s not too cold. We should be grateful for that. The water will be ready soon.”

  “When Jacob returns, let’s say our prayers and go to bed. I have a feeling I’ll not sleep well. There’s something … well, there are animals out there. It’s their forest, and we’re trespassing. They’re watching us.”

  “Rabbits and things. They’ll leave us be. The fire will scare them away. We’ve no food to attract them.”

  “Yes, that’s true.” She had removed her apron, folding it. “I just hope the dog stays put. If she’s running around all night causing a fuss, it’ll be even harder to sleep.”

  “If only we had some rope to keep her, but we don’t.” Jacob had returned. “How was it?” I asked.

  “Just fine.” He had brought several branches with him, one especially large. “This should do us for a few hours.” He placed the items upon a stack of limbs for later use.

  His maturity struck me, yet again. “You’ve done a fine job with the fire. We’d be sitting in the dark, if it wasn’t for you.”

  He grinned. “Not to worry. I’ll take care of you girls. You’re in good hands.”

  Anna laughed, “How precious. He’s the little man around the house.”

  “I am. I’ll take care of everything, and, in the morning, I’ll find the way out.”

  “Thank you, Jacob,” I said, although I doubted it would be that easy.

  He sat across from us with his legs stretched out before him. “It’s my pleasure.”

  Being in the company of my siblings gave me a measure of comfort, despite suffering in the elements. “Let’s say our prayers and have some water. Then we can go to bed.”

  “I’ll begin, if you want me to,” offered Anna.

  “Please.” We bowed our heads, clasping our hands before us.

  “Dear Lord, our Heavenly Father, please watch over us. We’re all alone in the wilderness, and we need your guidance and protection. Please keep the animals away, and help us to sleep. Please let Dat and David find us in the morning. Bless us and guide us to safety. We humbly ask that you keep us from harm. We were without light, and you’ve given us fire, for which we’re grateful. We needed water, and you helped us to find it. Please lead us to safety tomorrow. We strive to do your will in all things, Amen.”

  “Amen,” I said.

  “I’ll say the Lord’s Prayer,” offered Jacob.

  I glanced at him. “Thank you.”

  When the prayers had concluded and the water was gone, we settled in to sleep, although the ground felt hard and uncomfortable. I folded the apron beneath my head, facing Anna, who lay on her side. “Our shoulders will ache in the morning,” I whispered.

  “And our backs.”

  Molly had joined Jacob, sitting with him on his pile of leaves. “It’s just one night. We can manage for a few more hours.” I yawned, feeling tired and weary, but doubting I would be able to sleep. The fire had heated the space thoroughly; the flames remained strong, flickering vibrantly. “It’s going to be fine,” I said mostly to myself.

  “I hope so.” Anna closed her eyes, murmuring, “God will watch over us. No harm shall come to those who believe in Him. There is some security in that notion.”

  I reached out to touch her hand. “Yes. It’s a comfort to know He is here with us.”

  “He is.”

  “Good night, Anna.”

  “Good night, Rebekah.”

  “Good night, Jacob,” I said.

  “Night, girls. You sleep tight.”

  Dat frequently said those words. “Yes, we will.”

  I closed my eyes, but sleep remained illusive. I lay listening to the fire, with its crackling and snapping, the branches and pinecones burning. The constant drone of crickets resonated, but it was the noises further off that worried me. While Anna slept, her soft snores drifting around me, I listened to the creatures in the
distance, shrieking and growling. A chorus of howls followed this. I sat up at one point, worried the dog would wake, but Molly slept by Jacob’s side. He had his arm around her midsection. The fire had died down marginally, and, when it came close to extinguishing completely, I added a few more branches. Then I sat with my arms over my knees, staring tiredly into the blackness, as worry and fear would not let me sleep.

  In the morning, I did succumb to exhaustion, falling to the thin bed of leaves, but the reprieve did not last long, as Molly woke me with her wet tongue.

  “Aw … stop that,” I grumbled.

  I looked at where Anna slept, finding her missing. She had left the bed of leaves. The fire smoked, having died down to almost nothing, the aroma of burnt wood clinging to my clothing. Shaking out the apron, I tied it to my waist, while getting to my feet. It became greatly important to find my brother and sister, who had gone missing. Being close to dawn, the surrounding gloom slowly came into focus, as diffused light filtered down through the branches.

  A shape weaving amongst the bushes garnered my attention, the tan fur of an animal presenting itself. Molly appeared then. “Where is everyone?” The dog approached, sniffing my hand. I petted her. “Are they at the creek?” I assumed Anna and Jacob had gone in this direction. My belly grumbled, but I ignored it. “Let’s go find them, shall we?” I said my prayers as I walked. “Oh, Lord, our Father. Thank you for seeing us through the night. Thank you for keeping us safe and warm. Please help us find our parents today. Bless Dat and Mam and Ruth and David. Bless Abe, that sweet little baby.” A sense of yearning registered, accompanied by a feeling of homesickness. “How I miss everyone. I miss Mam. Amen.” I hurried towards the creek, hearing voices. “There you are.” I found Anna and Jacob by the water’s edge, washing their hands and faces. “Good morning.”

  It became lighter with the dawn. The stream looked rather small, the water hardly bigger than a trickle in places. There were greenish, slimy-looking rocks scattered amongst gray, slickened ones, but the creek was clear, the bottom sandy.

  “Good morning, Rebekah,” said Jacob. “I slept like a baby.” He stretched his arms over his head. “I’m hungry. I wish we had food.”