The Paladin: a story of Faith

Walking by Faith

Run, the witness was ordered. She ran, pursued by both mounted warriors and by arrows that flew from the citadel's walls. Those who seek your life will not stop at the edge of the city, the witness was warned. Go now, and do not return save at My bidding.

"Yes, Master," the witness panted in answer as she obeyed.

Father, He corrected. I will be your Father and you, my beloved daughter, for I am pleased by your obedience and your trust in Me.

Father, she agreed silently as she sobbed for breath. Despite her exertion, a warm affection for her God filled her. I am tired, Father. Strengthen me, for my steps slow. Accustomed to the strength that came from the dark arts of the paladin way, the witness knew she would need to rely on only her own, physical strength and on her God to fulfill the tasks required of her.

A low bush caught her attention. Hide; rest now, she was told.

Gratefully, the witness complied, trusting her God to keep her hidden from view. The bush wasn't much, nor the grass around it very high, but the witness's pursuers thundered by as if the witness's bright yellow ceremonial robe wasn't there at all, in the slushy whiteness of the early-winter landscape. A rush of love filled the witness as she lay in a ball, shivering in the gently falling snow.

Though the snow melted as soon as it landed, the witness was dressed only in flowing silk that did little to block the biting wind. Finally, when her God indicated that it was safe, the witness was finally allowed to follow her brethren across the stream and into the mountains.

The pool was cold enough to steal her breath away but the frigid temperatures couldn't stop the joy that filled the witness's heart as she walked down into the pool and washed herself as the others had done, in ritual cleansing. As she ducked her head under, her Master spoke to her heart. A new name I give you this day. No longer are you to be called after an evil spirit, but you shall henceforth be called as you are; Faith Witness.

Standing in the icy pool of water, Faith stripped off her clothes and boots, then threw them onto the bank, away from the mountains. "Father," she explained unnecessarily, "I will not keep even that vestige of the life You have called me out of!"

You will have no clothes at all, then, warned the Father.

Teeth chattering, Faith left the water and clambered up the bank. By the time she reached the top, she was covered in mud and scratches from the briars that grew there. Though the cold had deadened the pain of them, Faith knew that, once she warmed, her skin was going to ache from her labors. "You will provide what I need, Father," she told Him in complete confidence.

Warm affection answered her. I have prepared a place for you. Come, and I will show you where you are to rest for now, until you are completely clothed. Trusting Him, Faith went where He suggested, willingly obeying even if it meant being shamed by her lack of clothing.

Teech

Lonely though never actually alone, Teech worked hard from dawn until it was too dark to see at whatever his hands found to do. His supply of firewood increased to the point that he could have kept two fires burning until the following mid-summer. His stock of drying leather outgrew his ability to properly care for it, as did his supply of meat, until merely to prevent waste, he brought his excess to a neighbor that knew of another in need.

With the garden taken in, Teech did his fall plowing and then cleared out a bit more land to add to his dooryard. Someone gifted Teech with a few goats, so he built a secure barn for them, then went about gathering fodder for them against winter, until the small barn's mow was full of whatever he saw them eating. To his surprise and delight, they ate the leaves off of many of the trees he felled for firewood, preventing the need to deal with those same leaves.