During the time it took for their hands to heal, Derick’s thoughts drifted in a haze. He convinced himself—surely Raymond wouldn’t sink so low. Not to betray those who’d shown them kindness. It would be like biting the very hand that feeds.
Whenever idleness crept in, or Raymond’s plans stirred in his memory, Derick would quietly excuse himself. Whether from his brother’s company or the warmth of their hosts, he found escape in the rhythm of the axe or the cool pull of the spring where fish darted like thoughts too swift to catch.
There had been more times than not when the brothers went days without food or water. But the deer they caught earlier had filled their bellies well and gave them good pelts, the first they’d had since leaving the last village where trade was promised but hope ran thin.
When the crusts of the wounds had peeled like fading bark from skin, Raymond beckoned Derick to the shadows that evening—while Sandra threaded silence into fabric and Silas kept the flame steady in the hidden cave spring.
“Tonight we strike,” he whispered, voice laced with fire. “When they and their beasts drift into dreams.”
“Raymond, I had thought you were only musing on fantasies—not earnest in executing such wickedness!” he exclaimed in a hushed voice.
“Regain your wits, little brother!” he cried. “We shall be that much more well-fed once we gain their rations and grow equally wealthy. Do not dishonor our family name with a weak spine. I will listen for when they are sleeping. On my signal, choose a large cat—and slit its throat before it wakes.”
When evening fell and the stars crept out like watchful eyes, Derick’s sockets in his skull burned—his inner turmoil seeping through, yielding at last to Raymond’s relentless persuasion.
The couple’s quiet breathing made the task unbearably heavy. Especially Sandra—she lay cloaked in innocence, her purity a silent plea.
Derick crept within a breath’s reach of the cougar, while Raymond positioned himself behind the other. Just as their blades hovered above velvet throats, the beasts erupted in mirrored fury—claws flashing like judgment, slashing weapons from trembling hands and carving fresh wounds. In moments, the brothers were pinned.
Teardrops spilled from Derick’s eyes as the cougars held him in judgment. In that stillness, he wondered how he had yielded to his brother’s voice and not to what was right.
Silas and Sandra awakened to the snarls of mountain lions. They had seen the boys pinned, the scene heavy with consequence. Sandra moved swiftly, tending their injuries as she had before—precise, practiced, silent. Once the wounds were dressed and the boys bound, she and Silas exchanged a glance. In that quiet space the question lingered, what was to be done with the brothers now?
There was no malice in Silas, and Sandra was too stunned to feel anger. The older brother cried for mercy while the younger wept and trembled.
After enough silence had passed, Sandra spoke up, “why have you committed this betrayal when we have done you no wrong?”
“Morons like you,” Raymond seethed, “who treat the wilds as an extension of society—as if they’re a place for civility—need to learn that only the ruthless and strong survive out here.” His eyes shifted to Silas. “A man who acts like a woman, clinging to your every word and gesture. . . he deserved the fate we had planned for him.”
“No apology could suffice for what I attempted,” Derick gasped. “Had Raymond not been my brother, I would have turned the knife on him instead of the cougar, when he confessed what he’d planned. But because he is my blood, I felt bound to obey—even when he mocked my pleas for mercy and called them weakness.”
Sandra sighed in resignation. She understood all too well how difficult it can be to defy one’s family. It was hardly easy for her to leave her own family when they gave her so much affection growing up. She was only able to do so because the cleric from her village had told her to do what she felt called to rather than obey what others said her place in the world was.
Their fates became clear to her with this in mind. “I say we blindfold Derick and take him far from the cave to be released. That way, God will decide what becomes of him. As for this one,” she said, gesturing to Raymond, “we keep him close until we reach the village they came from. We’ll turn him over to their sheriff.”
Raymond’s face twisted with rage. Just as he opened his mouth, Silas gagged him with a strip of cloth, leaving only muffled curses. Derick began trembling so violently his teeth chattered, as though winter had reached him early—even though it was still a ways off.
“I don’t disagree with your judgment,” said Silas, “but if we take Raymond to the authorities, it’ll be the noose for him. How is that any different than killing him yourself?”
Sandra turned to him. “Since God has spared him, He has extended mercy. However we may feel, it is said: do not avenge yourselves, but leave room for God’s wrath. For it is written, ‘Vengeance is mine; I will repay.’ So I will keep my hands clean of this.”
Silas backed off and nodded, finding no fault in her words. He tied a strip of spare cloth over Derick’s eyes and quietly led him from the cave into the wilderness. Behind them, Sandra and the cougars kept watch over Raymond through the night, ensuring he wouldn’t try anything else.
Once they had traveled far enough, Silas released Derick. No words passed between them. They parted in silence, each swallowed by the stillness of nature and the soft cadence of early morning.
When Silas returned, a rope had been fastened to Raymond, and he was led to the spring deep within the cave. The stars still hung overhead, with no sign of sunrise. Tired and worn, the pair agreed to return to sleep, settling down again with the cougars lying close.
The couple fell back asleep at last. This proved once more how foolish they are for keeping him alive in Raymonds eyes.
His blood boiled with indignation. Do you think me to be so weak that you’re comfortable enough to not have one of you stay awake to guard me?
While his hands throbbed from the claw marks, he fought through the pain as he took out the spare knife he kept hidden under his clothes and cut the rope that Silas held onto. Raymond then crouched over the sleeping Sandra. But before he could plunge the knife, the sleeping cougars pounced on him, and he then became their meal.
The pair woke to guttural screams as the cougars finished their kill, leaving behind only a disembodied carcass. Though Sandra knew Raymond likely didn’t deserve mercy, she knelt by what remained with nerves which rattled and trembled, praying he had enough faith to reach heaven. Her nerves were rattled. He had nearly taken everything from her and Silas, but prayer was the only response her spirit could muster.
Sleep had abandoned Sandra, leaving her no choice but to keep watch with the cougars while Silas rested nearby. Time passed as she leaned against the cool stone wall at the cave’s mouth, lost in a daze. Her thoughts drifted until the soft crunch of footsteps approached. Silas hesitated beside her and gently asked, “Are you upset? Quite a lot has happened in the last few days.”
“Of course I’m upset. I’m not able to do anything about it though,” Sandra glimpsed out of the cave, admiring the starry night sky. “I can only beg for comfort and solace while pushing forward to what’s needed next.”
Silas sat beside her. “Would you like to look at the stars with me?” She flicked her head toward him in surprise as he stared quietly at the cave wall opposite them. “It can be for whatever time remains before sunrise,” he continued, “or when the sun sets tonight.”
She was about to say something like, “Do you realize what you’re suggesting?” or, “What if the mountain lions say otherwise?”—but all that came out was a squeak. Her hand flew to her mouth as swiftly as the sound escaped. Those thoughts felt too rude for a moment so tender, where he was simply asking to spend time with her.
Perhaps he realized how it had landed, because he quickly added,
“I—I’m not trying to court you or anything,” he stammered. “Just… trying to do more like you. Make the best of the present.”
She chuckled, his words lifting the weight from her chest, loosening the guard that had kept her from dreaming freely.
“Well… the thought did flicker to my mind,” she admitted. “But I suppose I was just caught off guard. You never quite struck me as someone with romantic designs.”
She paused, eyes drifting upward to the quiet tapestry above them.
“But I’d like that—watching the stars with you.”
Sandra leaned on his shoulder, his warmth and breath near enough that sleep began to tempt her again. It was enough for her to close her eyes and rest in that position.
The hardness at the crotch of Silas’s legs brought discomfort, but he endured it for her sake. He wrapped an arm over her shoulders, steadying her as she slept lightly. The nearby cougar watched him with piercing eyes. “Don’t worry, I have no impure intentions toward her,” he murmured—though truthfully, he did and was fighting them. His heart was still raw from nearly losing her. He was meant to keep her safe, yet he failed miserably. Now, all he could do was stay close, observe her, and hope to grasp the outlook on life she carries so naturally.
The morning light crept over the cave mouth, gently rousing them. When Silas and Sandra realized they’d spent the night pressed against one another along the cave wall, they both made startled noises and scrambled to reclaim their personal space, warmth flushing their faces.
Sandra gasped to regain her lost breath. She was so shocked that she’d been out of sorts enough last night to forget her propriety and use her traveling companion—a man, no less—as a pillow! She drew back in dismay. “I’m so sorry,” she said quickly. “I have no idea what came over me last night! Surely there’s no excuse for my behavior.”
“Don’t fret,” he urged. “After everything that happened last night, it’s perfectly excusable. I’m certain anyone would’ve had a lapse in judgment like that,” he huffed. “And rest assured—any breach of decency on my part would’ve ended in my death. The cougars there would see to it.”
“Even if they weren’t here, I would trust you to maintain respect of my person towards me. Let’s move on from this and shake off these emotions. It’s not likely anything good will come of indulging them.”
Silas halted from her words for a moment. “Which emotions do you mean?”
She sighed in resignation, “don’t be coy and pretend you don’t feel infatuation and desire towards me. I assure you, they’re only a passing fancy and nothing more.”
Her sharp words, however sincere they were, had cut him quite a bit. But why? has he truly come to feel something more for her than admiration or respect? If that were the case. . .”What if we pursued this then? Is there truly nothing that could come out of it?”
She gave a sidelong glance over her shoulder with razored eyes, “nothing at all but dust and ashes,” she hissed. “Any happy marriages are either short lived or exist in stories. Sure, the rewards make marriage quite tempting, but it becomes hollow one way or another.”
“Even if God was kept at the center of the marriage the whole time?”
His inquiry felt like iced water pouring through her blood. “Even so, the husband or wife will always stray and there’s never telling whether they’ll return or abandon the effort.”
“Wont it make our situation easier if we did—”
“No!” she seethed, cutting him off from any further foolish thoughts. “Any fancifulness between us is nothing more than passing interest. While it may look to ease our temptations on the surface, the devil always finds a way to get through. We’re better off keeping to our current relationship and stick to the things we enjoy already. Any comforts or affections I would need from you are as a friend. Nothing more.” Sandra turned on her heel and laid down some distance away from Silas in the darker parts of the cave’s mouth.
Though he was reeling from her words, Silas went to the spring-side nook where their gear lay. His fingers curled around the axe’s worn handle; as he made for the cave’s opening, he paused beside her. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable with the notion,” he said quietly. “I only meant to ease the weight of our circumstances.”
Sandra grunted, “you don’t have to apologize. . . .” she said gruffly, sitting up sideways, her eyelids flitting lightly. “I’m sorry if I wounded you. Even if the path is that much harder for me, I don’t wish to be tethered to a man out of obligation or fleeting passion. Any love I wish for is one that can always be ignited and can never fall apart like the kingdom of heaven. Something that can never fade away or shatter and last even when I pass away. It’s because what I want is impossible, that I’m certain any attachment we feel will fade in only a decade, even if it would feel like eternity.”
While he knew her words were meant to clarify her boundaries and desires, they still added quite a deep cut to one he was already carrying. It was all the worse when he knew she had meant no ill will toward him in this regard, but had no faith that he could fulfill what she wanted. He couldn’t blame her either.
Sandra brushed the dirt from her hem with a quiet breath. “Now then,” she said. “What needed saying’s been said. I’ll boil the water and fill the canteens, catch what fish I can from the spring and get them preserved. If you’re out gathering wood tomorrow, it might be worth looking for a river — something we can drink from, and maybe clean ourselves properly. We wont be able to use the spring for more than one wash.”
Silas nodded, slow and faint. The words didn’t reach far, but they landed true enough. “I’ll keep a lookout,” he said in a low voice.
He turned without hurry, the shock hadn’t passed, but motion felt easier than stillness. He walked toward the trees, the weight of gathering wood simpler than sorting his thoughts.
Sandra knelt by the inner cave spring, setting the pot to boil and checking the canteens. Her movements were steady, measured — already thinking through the fish and salt, not the moment that had just passed.
Though her words came sharp and sure, her conviction trembled through her body. Silas would make a good husband — anyone could see that. But even the fiercest passion fades. And if it holds in one heart and not the other, it breaks all the same. She’d seen enough stories to trust this truth — they mirror the world as it is, if only in part. So, she holds to what she knows: until God proves there’s a man who can walk with Him as she strives to, she will walk alone.
With a great amount of strength, Silas swung his axe clean through the log that sat on the tree stump he’d made. No words could give an appropriate description of the turmoil that made him so restless. He’s not even sure he’ll be able to sleep tonight. Stirrings of inadequacy and upset sorrow plagued him.
In his trance, he listened to the chopping and thudding he made. Each sound resonated as though something inside him was cracking with every landing. When he reached for the next log, he was met with emptiness. A wave of vertigo came with the disrupted rhythm, drowning him in his anguish. He collapsed to the ground, muffled tremors resonating from him—nature his only audience.
Sandra was in her own trance, intent on catching every fish that swam in the spring. While she’d managed to catch most and had them bled and scaled, a few still eluded her.
Suddenly, the fox began tugging at the hem of her dress with its pointed mouth, pulling until the fabric nearly tore. She was so focused on her task that she didn’t consider it might be trying to tell her something important. Instead, she assumed it needed food or water—though it had plenty, thanks to the cougars—so she pushed it away.
The fox tugged again, more insistently than before. “Enough already,” she muttered, her frustration rising. She grabbed the nape of its neck, forcing it to stop, yelping from the shock.
At that, the cougar let out a screeching sound, causing Sandra to fall onto her rear and release the fox, which fled behind a stone pillar pointing toward the ceiling. Gasping for air, she felt a flicker of fear—for the first time in a long while, since living among these predators, she was afraid of what they might do.
“What is it?” she snapped at the cougar, which only looked at her passively.
As though answering, its head turned toward the tunnel network that led to the cave’s mouth, then back to Sandra—as if to say she had somewhere she needed to be.
Why would she need to follow the mountain lion? Were there more travelers? But Silas was there and could tend to them. He surely wouldn’t need her help either… His earlier proposal of them getting married—wasn’t he just being pragmatic?
When she didn’t move for a while, the cougar hissed, baring its teeth in warning.
“All right, all right, I’m going,” she groaned.
Sandra trailed after the cougar, out of the cave and into the woods. She feared straying too far from the cave, but each time she hesitated, the cougar would snarl—sharp and insistent. It’s evident the beast knew something she didn’t.
Despite her persistent shaking, everything became clear when Silas came into view—crouched low, curled into himself, his body balled tight while the axe lay untouched on the stump beside him. Tears welled in her eyes as the realization struck. She had made it plain she did not seek marriage or companionship. Yet he had still grown attached, quietly, while she remained blind to it.
Sandra rushed to him, throwing her arms around his balled-up form. She felt his quiet sobs trembling through her as her own weeping began. She could have apologized—for not seeing his affections sooner—but somehow, it would have cheapened the moment. So she said nothing, only held him, and waited until they both settled within their storms.
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