For the first two months or so, I traveled entirely alone (save the few times the Benevolent Wanderer had chanced upon me). I must confess, it was quite lonely, having no one to speak to for days and days on end. Sometimes I would sing the familiar songs of my childhood to myself, other times I would speak to the bleakness or to some imaginary companion; often I would speak openly with God, asking for His blessings and safety. Truly I missed the human-to-human interaction that of necessity constituted my daily life at home--haggling some merchant who was charging me too much for cattle feed, laughing with my boyhood friends, conversing with the elders about the pearl and the Promised Land, seeking advice from my parents and kin. I missed that. It was a lonely time indeed.
The gap was partially filled by the love and joy I felt when I had met the Wanderer those brief, dire moments. I knew at least there was someone out here in this waste who cared about me. His bread, water, and light comforted me and at least took away the strain of survival from my mind so that I could focus on where I was going and try to make it as safely as possible. I was filled, it was true, but somehow it seemed something was missing...
Late in the afternoon one particularly hot and unpleasant day, I spied a small, dark figure far out on the dunes ahead of me. I couldn't exactly tell what it was at first; it lay motionless on the sand. As I drew closer, I realized it was a person! I ran to his side. He lay unconscious, his breathing shallow, his face bright red. As I looked him over, under his desert garb I could see he was emaciated and starving. Immediately, I slung one of the Wanderer's waterskins from my shoulder and sprinkled a few drops on his forehead and lips. His eyes moved under their weary lids, and slowly he opened his red and exhausted eyes. I was shocked--they were such piercing blue, and so familiar-looking... I gazed at him for a moment, then remembered he was dying.
A JUST 'DESSERT'
1 week ago
