As the early morning rays of dawn crept over the cave, Sandra is stirred from her slumber by one of the big cats. When her fatigue faded enough, she realized that one of them were missing as the cougar tugged her dirty clothes.
With a discontented groan, Sandra went and followed the mountain lion, which revealed two men of similar appearance with bleeding hands, cowering against trees that were clustered together, the second cougar snarling at them. A pair of musket-looking guns were a couple feet away in the brush.
“P-p-please!” cried the one on the left. “Call off this beast!” The cougar watching them hissed and bared more of its teeth.
In her flabbergasted state, she sighed and said, “They’re no more beasts to us than you or I are to them. Regardless, it is not I who commands them.” She proceeded, once she inhaled deeply, “why are you all the way out here with rifles?”
“We-we’re sojourners, exploring th-the wilds and e-establishing deals with the natives. . .” said the other.
Sandra contemplated their words a moment before speaking, “what are you seeking to accomplish?”
“Steady supplies of medicines, clothing, and medical knowledge,” said the one on the left again as he cradled his injured hands to his chest.
She approached the left man with caution, the cougar that guided her circled near as it kept watch on them. “Do you have clean wrappings in your bags?”
“Certainly miss,” said the other man. “Herbal medicine too.”
Sandra went to help get the sacks from their backs, starting with the man on the left when he flinched, saying, “whoa there miss! we can’t allow a fine lady like yourself touch us.” the other nodded in agreement.
“Unfortunately for you, gentlemen, there’s no one presently available to tend to your injuries and with how long they’ve been like this, they’ll likely get infected any moment. Now you can either swallow your pride and allow me to assist, or you can cling to the foolishness of society when there is no propriety in survival. It’s your choice.”
The pair exchanged a quick glance and hung their heads in shame. When Sandra tried again for their sacks, they were far more cooperative, allowing her to retrieve what she needed. She brought out the canteens, herbs, and wrappings, using the cloth sparingly and tying the bandages snug around each wound after washing away the crusted blood.
Gathering the empty canteens to refill at the cavern spring, she glanced back before leaving. “Make sure to behave yourselves—and don’t do anything reckless,” she said gravely.
Back in the cave, Silas awoke to find Sandra and the cougars gone. Alarm surged through him, but it quickly eased as the fox barked—its sharp, scream-like cries pulling him toward the scattered supplies. It pawed at the items deliberately, guiding him to pack the items for transport.
Just as he finished, Sandra returned with a cougar at her side and canteens in her arms. “One of the mountain lions found two men nearby,” she said. “Their hands are injured pretty badly, but they don’t seem to have any ill will. I’ll fill these at the spring and bring them here to rest. It’s only right.”
“Hold on—” Silas moved to intercept her, but the cougar snarled, halting him. “What if they try to kill us? Or steal from us while we sleep? Or worse. . . to you. . .”
“Have you not been paying attention?” she asked. “The cougar watching them now is the one that disarmed and cornered them. If they’re wilderness men, they know better than to pick a fight they can’t win. Besides, we’re moving to the spring. They’ll rest here till they’re able to move on.”
As Sandra and the mountain lion faded into the shadows, he hefted their sacks over his shoulders and trailed after the persistent fox. He sighed in resignation, a bitter taste lingering on his tongue from envy. Though she treated him like little more than a traveler beside her, she never positioned him as lesser or greater—only contributed where she could and expected nothing in return. However, the animals seem insistent that he be below her.
When Sandra filled the canteens, she went to help Silas get a new fire started beneath the hole in the cavern’s ceiling, but the mountain lion blocked her path and ushered her toward the entrance, as though her aid was needed elsewhere.
With the full canteens gathered in her embrace, she drifted from him, her expression tempered by a sympathy that had only just begun to surface. It was plain her stance had softened since the start of their venture—no sign now of the wary edge she once held toward him.
Silas knew this realization ought to comfort him, but it only made the ache in his chest cut deeper. He began taking the stones from their pack and laying them in a ring, one by one. With each placement, his frustration swelled—he would be doing this alone. Sandra had tried to make the last one herself, true, but in the end, she still needed him to start it. And so, as with the first, the hard part was his to bear
These thoughts turned over in his mind, among others—how things always seemed to lean in Sandra’s favor, how she moved through it all like it was simple, even a kind of wonder, though she’d never wandered this far from the village. And with such ease. He knew she’d feared the cougars at first, at least a little. She likely considered the fox as food, but something in her had kept her still. She hadn’t told him to lower the arrow until it began walking ahead of them, slow and strange, as if leading. And because of that moment—whatever it was—they had meat. They had the cave. If she hadn’t shown him that the big cats could be more than threat or food, they’d have spent their nights stacking brush and logs at the cave mouth rather than sleeping soundly behind protectors.
Silas shouted and burned with silent grief from having to follow a woman’s lead—when he was supposed to be the one to protect her, to know when nature was offering its aide. The weight of that shame twisted deeper because he couldn’t understand how she saw what needed seeing, how she moved in those moments with clear direction, easing their journey in ways he couldn’t.
He cried inwardly, I feel so useless! Why am I stuck like this? How does she know these things? Surely, it’s not from her faith alone. The loathing had swelled so much it was becoming unbearable. Silas found himself wishing Sandra were here—if only to distract him from the festering, rather than leave him to stew in it alone amidst the silence of the sea life and the rippling water.
Once the fire was lit, Silas laid out the tanning hides and went to eat some wild greens—his stomach had begun to growl as he’d knelt to blow the sparks. While he fed on another portion of his bread, the sound of footsteps rang against the stone.
Sandra approached the two men with their canteens, watching each step she took. Sadness weighed on her as she treaded closer, struggling to understand why it wasn’t the time for her to aid him—especially after all he’d already done for them both: hunting, butchering, cooking. And she’d been careless enough to leave the boar meat exposed just to gather wood and make a fire.
The statuesque cougar that kept watch over them remained in place while the men were curled against themselves.
Upon reaching them, they gather their filled canteens and drink from them, each expressing their thanks. “My name is Derick,” said the man on the left.
“My name is Raymond,” said the man on the right. “And we’re the Silverton brothers.”
“You’re brothers?” she asked. It would make sense, given their similar appearances.
“Yes,” said Derick.
“We apologize if we intruded on you. We weren’t aware that a woman was living in a cave,” said Raymond as he repacked their things.
“We would have looked elsewhere for shelter had we known,” said Derick.
“It’s only temporary until we can get a more permanent solution.” Sandra quietly spun, turning back the way she came. “Come, I will show you the way. It’s only fair that you come recover under protection.”
She began treading the way before them, the two cougars at her sides remaining leery of the brothers. As they passed through thickets and brush, Sandra gathered wild fruits and greens without pause. After traveling some of the path, one of the brothers spoke up.
“Y-you say. . . you don’t command these. . . animals. . . yes?” Derick asked nervously.
“Yes, that’s right,” Sandra said plainly.
“Then why do they behave. . . as though. . . you’re their master?
She shrugged. “Hard to say. All I did was surrender my fate to God. If they had devoured me, I would’ve accepted it. Likewise, since they didn’t, I’ve done my best to accept whatever came after. I was prepared to meet my maker, but instead. . . I was spared—and, I suppose, taken in. The mountain lions seem to consider me kin. They’ve kept my acquaintance at a distance, though he was spared too.”
She moved fluidly through the undergrowth, searching for how to explain more clearly. “The best I can say is that when I offered myself to them, they began rubbing on me, guiding me. That was just last evening. . . and they haven’t left since.”
A hush fell over them. The chirping birds, buzzing insects, and chittering squirrels suddenly felt too loud to speak over—when in truth, Sandra’s admission was so staggering, it left them speechless.
The Cave eventually came into view, yawning open from the rocky mountainside like the mouth of something ancient. The earth grew colder beneath their feet as shadows deepened, swallowing the last traces of sun. Scattered stones crunched underfoot, echoing faintly into the cavern’s throat.
“You may rest here.” She gestured to the glowing embers of the campfire she and Silas had built the day before. “I’ll introduce you to my companion momentarily. He and I will be dwelling in the deeper parts of the cave.”
“W-wait!” Derick called out as she drifted to leave. She paused, glancing over her shoulder. The cougars hissed at his sudden advance, their low warning rumble slicing through the atmosphere. “W-will you. . . share some food with us?”
She regarded him a moment. “If your bellies are empty, and the wilds have yielded nothing, you may have some fish from the spring and the greens we’ve gathered.”
Sandra proceeded down the dividing tunnels with the cougars flanking her, leaving the men to reignite the fire that had dimmed down. As the path shifted from dirt to stone, her shoes began kicking tiny rocks all while she followed the marks for the spring. She considered exploring the other paths of the cave, but the cougars were against the idea of her straying.
Silas came into view upon entering the cavern with the spring with the fire steadily pulsing by him. Her gaze lingered briefly on the sight before turning to the spring, where she began washing the greens she’d gathered.
“Thank you for moving everything and setting another fire. Our guests will be staying at the mouth of the cave where we slept last night. I’ll take you to them in a moment.” The thought of apologizing for not defying the cougar and helping him light a second fire crossed her mind. But there was no need—she had been told not to.
She accepted what had been asked of her—there was little room for protest. Still, her eyes burned. Not from tears, not from guilt, but from the ache of being sidelined when everything in her longed to be of use. Obedience didn’t erase the sting. It only gave it purpose.
“How do you have such clear discernment with these things?” he asked, prompting her to pause as she patted the greens dry. “First the fox, then the boars, this spring. . .” he gestured to the cavern, “the cougars—and now nomads arriving in the morning as guests. I’d have sworn you were an enchantress who planned every step before leaving your life behind. But your behavior, your faith, and the absence of even a whispered incantation prove you’re no witch. You’ve never drawn blood. Never etched unholy symbols. So. . . how. . .?”
Sandra shrugged, “It’s hardly a big secret. All I’ve ever done is give control of my life to God. If the fox was meant to be food, it would have fled upon seeing us. If the boars were to be something besides food and materials, there would have been indication otherwise. If we were to go elsewhere for camp and shelter, the fox would have led us there. If the cougars were to send me home to heaven, then I would’ve accepted it as I did their mercy—not without fear, but with a heart prepared for either. Even through my fear and anxiety of such moments, I cling to my faith and plead with God to show me which way to go in life. When you seek to have your flaws and sins taken from you rather than be granted blessings, that is when the path is made straight before you.”
Silas reeled from her words, so much so that he quietly gasped when she finished. Somehow, everything felt clearer—and yet something inside him still misaligned, like gears struggling to catch. Her clarity stirred more questions than answers. How could he surrender like that? How could he trust God with such certainty? He sensed these weren’t questions Sandra could answer. They’d need to be brought to the divine directly.
He watched and rested, tending the fire as the fox padded near while whimpering, accepting a scrap of raw meat from Silas that was wrapped in the tanning hides. Sandra finished with the greens, wrapping and tying them to hang for later. Then she gathered smoked boar, a few preserved greens, and berries from their stores, bundling them in cloth for carrying. “Come,” she said. “Gather your lunch. I’ll introduce you to our guests, and we’ll dine together.”
Silas followed beside her as she drifted toward the mouth of the cave, where the two men were unpacking their things and laying down a hunted deer. He marveled that someone like her could behave with such grace—like a wife hosting her husband’s friends. Why doesn’t she assert her authority, when it was clear she wasn’t some lesser woman as others might expect?
Sandra set her bag of food along the cave’s side wall, then quietly arranged sitting areas with folded cloths and blankets—echoing customs from parts of Asia. She did this for Silas and the Silverton brothers with such tender precision, moving like a butterfly flitting from flower to flower. “Brothers Silverton, this is my traveling companion, Silas,” she said, gesturing toward him.
Silas tipped his beloved cowboy hat in polite acknowledgment. “How do you do?” he greeted cordially.
Sandra turned with a cool, detached grace. “Silas, these are Derick and Raymond Silverton,” she drawled, gesturing to each. “They are sojourners seeking to increase knowledge and trade between our people and the natives.” But beneath the polished hospitality, he could almost hear her true meaning: So they say. . . we shall be hospitable, but remain guarded.
With their canteens full, the four of them gathered around the fire and began to eat. Before Sandra could take her first bite of boar meat, a prayer rose to mind. She set the food down, brought her hands together, and silently mouthed the words: Oh Lord, bless this food and those who eat it. May it strengthen and sustain us, and keep us aligned with You. In the name of Your beloved Son, Jesus—Amen.
Silas and the boys paused, food midway to their mouths, as Sandra’s actions caught their attention. For a brief moment, they searched their minds—wondering if there was something expected of them. But no words surfaced, and Sandra offered no gesture or glance to suggest they ought to do the same. So, without comment, they resumed eating.
“So then,” Silas began, wiping the last crumbs from his face with a scrap of cloth, now sated enough for conversation. “Where are you traveling from, and where are you headed?”
Raymond, the elder brother, took a drink from his water canteen and brushed away the lingering crumbs before answering. “We came from a village just north of here. My brother and I are searching for an Apache settlement said to be somewhere nearby, but it’s proven difficult to find.”
“Yesterday at sunset, we lost our bearings,” Derick added. “Our tents are worn thin, barely holding together, so we searched for shelter and found this cave. We were just about to make camp when one of the mountain beasts came at us.” He gestured toward the cougars lying nearby—eerily still, like decorations. “I swear it meant to kill us—until this fine lady showed up, with the other beast at her side.”
“I may be able to offer some insight,” Silas said, standing and walking toward the inner part of the cave where their belongings rested.
The cougars remained motionless as Sandra finished her meal. While she drank from her canteen, Derick asked, “There was truly no special method you used with these beasts?”
Sandra shook her head. “Nope. None whatsoever. It may be hard to grasp, but. . . when you walk in humility instead of trying to control what will happen, miracles like this can unfold. And even smaller ones—if you’re willing to notice.”
“These are indeed. . . difficult to comprehend,” Raymond drawled, brushing a hand over his short, corporate beard in thought.
“Consider this,” Sandra said. “Not once have I uttered a command to these mountain lions, yet they guard Silas and me. I haven’t asked them to lie here since our return, and still they’ve done so—alert, not asleep. I’ve never met a magician or sorcerer, but I hear they cast incantations to make animals bend to their will.”
Her words, however softly they rang, hung over the stillness.
Silas’s footsteps echoed softly across the stone as he returned, his pack slung over his shoulder.
Sandra eased herself against the stone wall of the cave as the men unfolded their maps, comparing details in search of the native settlement rumored to lie in the region.
Together, they filled in the blank spaces—sharing observations and sketching landmarks. As the conversation drifted toward the terrain and its possibilities, Silas retrieved a notebook and began scribbling notes while the topic turned to building a secluded house for himself and Sandra in the wilderness.
In the middle of chewing a slice of fruit, Sandra choked in protest. The men stopped speaking at once, caught off guard by the sudden interruption
“Have you forgotten we’re not married?” she said, wiping her mouth. “Sharing space in a cave is one thing—but for an unmarried man and woman to share a home without a third party? That’s hardly wise.”
A flush of pink crept across the men’s faces at her words. Silas cleared his throat to break the awkward silence. “Ahem. We’ll sort out that particular detail after we finish planning where the house will be—and how it’s going to be structured.”
Sandra went and stoked the crackling fire with a branch. Everyone glanced around the cave’s mouth and realized there wasn’t much firewood leftover. “My brother and I,” said Derick, “will go gather some more firewood for both you and ourselves as thanks for receiving us with such kindness.” He motioned for his older brother Raymond to come with him and they left the cave together.
“Thank you,” said Silas. “I will remain here to ensure the fire doesn’t go out.” He regarded Sandra for a moment. “Would you kindly check that our campfire near the spring is still burning and tend to it?”
She nodded firmly and rose to her feet. “Be safe, Silverton brothers.” With a small bundle of branches in hand, Sandra departed toward the spring, her shoes stirring the dirt at the cave’s mouth as she stepped into the stone tunnels, the cougars following behind her.
The brothers grabbed hold of axes from their packs and set out to start chopping to make ample firewood. Derick scanned the area for suitable trees. Just as he stepped toward one, Raymond hooked their arms and tugged him in the opposite direction—away from the cave and deeper into the forest.
Derick couldn’t fathom what his brother was thinking. Weren’t they meant to gather firewood for the lovely couple? Yet Raymond had dragged him so far that the cave behind them shrank into nothing more than a shimmer on the horizon—like a memory slipping into dusk.
Raymond finally released his grip, words curling from his mouth like smoke: “We should be far enough away now.”
There was a gleam in his eyes that unsettled Derick—a glint he’d seen before, sharp and soulless, when the villages bartered with the native tribes, closing deals with hands that trembled from greed, not reverence.
“Brother,” Derick said, voice low, edged with doubt. “Wouldn’t it be wiser to gather wood nearer the cave?”
Raymond’s gaze darkened, set on something unseen. “This is our golden hour—don’t waste it. If we capture them and sell them to the native savages, we’ll finally be rich. That woman, she’s no ordinary wanderer. She can charm beasts, bend them to her will. They’ll pay dearly for power like that.”
He paused, as if weighing the cost of conscience.
“They say she’s unmarried. If she’s kept her purity, her worth doubles.”
His lip curled slightly. “The man. . . Silas. . . we’ll need another tale to tempt them. It has to be done beneath the cover of night, while they and their beasts lie sleeping. We’ll each take one—strike fast, bind them tight.”
Derick gasped, appalled by the depths to which his brother’s ambition had driven him. “Raymond! How can you even consider doing this to people who’ve shown us nothing but kindness? We’re strangers—complete outsiders. This is more than wrong… it’s treachery in its vilest form!”
Raymond scoffed, eyes hardening. “They’re fools, treating this savage wilderness like it’s some extension of civilized life. Out here, it’s survival of the fittest. To believe otherwise is naive—reckless. We have to seize every opportunity that comes our way, or we’ll stay hungry till our bones forget the taste of meat.” He turned toward the cave, already calculating. “After we take down the beasts, we’ll need to collect their weapons. . . yes. And all their belongings—whatever they’ve got. It’ll serve us better than it does them.”
Derick remained frozen in shock. Raymond kept muttering—something about waiting until their hands had fully healed, then striking. They’d bide their time until the moment was right. Meanwhile, sorrow churned in Derick’s chest, discordant and unshakable. He had to choose: side with his own flesh and blood—or defend the strangers.
End of Chapter. Thanks for reading!
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