Hidden Fragments Chapter 13

The Journey Continues

Previously:
Calen, Marisa, and Tobin narrowly escaped discovery when soldiers, led by Droskar and the vicious Slink, raided the baker’s shop. Samwell hid them under the floor while the soldiers searched, and it seemed as though all hope would collapse beneath the weight of fear. But in the flour-dusted darkness, the impossible happened: the dust itself formed the shimmering word Ruach, breath, wind, Spirit. God was still with them.

When the danger had passed, Samwell baked the sacred Scrolls into fresh loaves so Calen could carry them safely out of Bramblebrook. And in the night, a mysterious figure led them to the gate, unlocked, the guards asleep, clearing a path that no human could have arranged.

Escaping under a hidden moon, Calen realized: they were not forgotten. God was opening the way, step by step.

Chapter 13

Footprints of the Unseen

Bramblebrook faded quickly behind them as they rode in silence out of town. Marisa led the way and Calen followed, still shaken by their escape and everything that had happened. How could his life have changed so suddenly, so completely and in such a short time?

Until now, his life had been nothing more than a dull chain of meaningless routines. Each day brought the same monotonous labor, always ending with a frustrated sigh as he closed his inkwell at night. The next morning, he would open it again to begin anew. Nothing ever changed.

The texts he was asked to create were as lifeless as his days with the Silent Scribes, spent copying dreary passages from the Book of the Order while someone beat a drum to keep the pace. How strange, to think that he had once believed that this was all there was to living.

He could see himself even now, bent over a desk at his last assignment, just days before he met Angus. Some pompous nobleman who hadn’t even bothered to knock, had hired him for yet another tedious task as a scribe. The nobleman’s only contribution had been, to bark that the work must be neat, swift and precise.

“A Treatise on the Proper Enumeration and Conduct of Domestic Geese within the Barony of Eldreth.” That was the subject, of all things, a painfully long legal document detailing how many geese each villager could own, how far they might wander and the penalties for “unlawful honking between dusk and dawn.” All this foolishness, while faithful men like Angus and Asher languished in prison and injustice reigned.

No, life could never be the same anymore. Up till last week, he had never defied the soldiers of the Council of Twelve. He’d never fled for his life, and had never truly lived … until now.

Now he was a fugitive, half dazed with his nerves stretched to the limit. But he was a man with a mission and for the first time in his life, he felt alive. Since the God of the Scrolls had knocked on his heart, his life had meaning. There was a purpose. There was a reason for living. He almost felt as though he had aged ten years in a single week.

Yet one doubt persisted.

Marisa was so strong, so full of faith, and he was not. Could he ever reach her level of yieldedness? Why had God called him, so unworthy, to such a grand mission? Had God made a mistake? When they hid under the floor of the baker’s shop, he had been paralyzed with fear. So stupid.

Marisa had not been afraid. Be he had been; just like Tobin, a mere child. No, God should have chosen someone like Marisa for this work, not him. And yet, despite everything, there was this strange, almost quiet conviction that God somehow cared. That He could be trusted.

How strange it all seemed.

He inhaled the night air and a comforting warm sense of God’s nearness filled his heart again. His doubts seemed to flee. Funny, how that always happened when he turned his thoughts toward God. He quietly steered Hosanna on, lingering in the joyful presence of God. A song came to him, the one Marisa had sung earlier, which captured everything perfectly. He began to hum it softly:

I have decided to follow Jesus;
I have decided to follow Jesus;
I have decided to follow Jesus;
I won’t turn back, I won’t turn back.

The cross before me, the world behind me;
The cross before me, the world behind me;
The cross before me, the world behind me;
No turning back, no turning back. *

“Ssh,” whispered Marisa. “We’re still near Bramblebrook, it’s best to stay as quiet as possible.”

“Sorry,” Calen murmured. She was right, of course. He nudged Hosanna forward, and they rode on into the forest, the shadows growing deeper around them. Apart from the mournful cry of a night owl, the steady rhythm of hooves on the sandy path and a distant cuckoo calling out that God was still in charge of the world, all was silent.

Marisa stopped, turned in her saddle and asked Tobin if he could find his way home in the dark.

Tobin shook his head. “By the whiskers of Saint Giles,” he said in a small, uncertain voice. “It’s far too dark. I’ve never been out in the dark, so I do not recognize anything. Mother says it’s dangerous here after dark.”

“Don’t worry,” Marisa replied gently. “We’ll find your home. We won’t stay in the woods all night.”

With a determined motion, she pulled her lantern that held her portion of the scrolls, from her saddlebag.

“I still have a little oil left,” she whispered to Calen. “Not much, but perhaps enough. Can you light it?”

Within a minute, a warm, golden light spread across the path. The dim glow steadied their hearts.

“The Lord is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path,” Marisa said with quiet confidence. “He will lead us.” She turned to Tobin. “Your mother’s house should be around here somewhere. Recognize the road?”

Tobin tugged on Marisa’s sleeve and pointed. “Can you shine the light over there? That tree looks familiar.”

Marisa raised the lantern high, but Tobin sighed in frustration. “I don’t know. All the trees look scary now.”

Calen silently agreed. The flickering shadows cast by the lantern twisted into eerie shapes, monstrous figures with gnarled arms watching closely, ready to snatch them at any unguarded moment and drag them to a place no one wished to go.

“It’ll be all right,” Marisa said reassuringly, putting an arm around Tobin. “We will find it.”

The horses trudged on while Marisa, Calen and Tobin listened tensely for any sound coming from Tobin’s house.

Somewhere in the darkness, the owl called again.

Then the lantern began to flicker wildly, sputtered and with a soft crackle went out. Tobin gasped in fright. They stood in absolute darkness.

“What now?” Calen said aloud. “Maybe we should find a place to sleep. We can continue to look for Tobin’s house at dawn.”

“Here? In the forest?” Tobin’s voice quivered. “But there are bears and wolves here. Mother said …”

“… God will lead us through,” Marisa cut him off with a conviction that surprised Calen. “He has to.”

It was truly dark now, frighteningly so, but she was right. Hadn’t God already led them safely out of Bramblebrook? And yet, the doubts crept in again. Calen despised himself for being so unsteady. Wolves and bears …? It sounded ominous, but they couldn’t stand there forever. Something had to happen. Out of the stillness came Marisa’s quiet voice. “We should pray,” she said.

Calen could barely make out her silhouette, but he knew at that very moment she was lifting her eyes to heaven.

“God once led His people by a pillar of fire at night and a cloud by day,” she added after a short while. “He can do it again. We must trust Him.”

“I know that story,” Tobin said brightly from somewhere in the dark. “It’s in the Word we have at home. Mother just read it to me the other night.”

“Good lad,” Marisa said. Her voice was almost cheerful, as if she had just heard that a warm bed awaited her in a royal palace around the next tree.

Calen bit his lip. Was Marisa perhaps too much of a dreamer? How could God possibly get them out of this darkness? The lantern was out and it was too dark to follow even an angel, like they had in Bramblebrook. Surely, sometimes God needed a little help. Maybe God depended on his level-headed practicality. Maybe, that was why He had called him for this mission.

He squinted into the darkness, searching for a soft patch of grass where they might lie down in case God would choose not to answer Marisa’s optimistic prayers. Bears or no bears, God could keep them on the grass too. But he saw no grass. All he saw were vague silhouettes of sharp roots and thorny stumps. Even if they did find a spot, the damp ground would be miserable to sleep on.

Then what?

He looked again. Suddenly, he saw it.

Something shone faintly to the right, a glimmer on the forest floor.

“Do you see that?” he asked.

“What?” Marisa replied. “I can’t see a thing. It’s pitch dark.”

“Not quite,” Calen said. “There!” He instinctively pointed toward the mysterious glow and dismounted from Hosanna. Cautiously, he walked toward the light at the edge of the path. As he drew nearer, his heart leapt. There, clearly visible in the damp earth between brambles and moss-covered stones, was the glowing shape of a footprint, and it seemed to point deeper into the forest.

“A footprint!” he shouted, forgetting he was supposed to be quiet. “A footprint of light!”

It was silent for a moment. Then Marisa’s voice came softly from the darkness. “I can’t see anything.”

“Here!” Calen called, his voice trembling with awe. “Come look for yourself!”

Hooves shifted behind him. He heard her dismount, and seconds later her hand rested on his shoulder, warm and steady in the dark. It sent a pleasant shiver through his body.

“I still can’t see it,” she said. “Where is it?”

Calen looked at her, confused. “You don’t see that light?”

There was a pause, then Marisa answered softly, “I really don’t.”

Calen blinked in disbelief, but when he looked again, the glow was gone. It had vanished. The spot was as dark as before.

“It’s gone,” he whispered, crestfallen. Then his heart skipped a beat. Further into the forest, perhaps twenty paces ahead, a new faint glimmer appeared. Another glowing footprint?

“There!” he cried. “There’s another one!”

“Where?” Marisa asked, squinting into the dark. “I still can’t see it.”

“I don’t understand,” Calen said, “but I can see it clearly. Another footprint of light. I think we’re meant to follow it.”

For a moment, there was silence. He heard Marisa’s calm breathing beside him. Then she spoke softly, “You are sure?”

“Of course I am sure, I am not blind.”

More silence followed. At last, Marisa spoke again. “If you think that’s where God is leading, Calen … then let’s trust Him.”

“So, you believe me?” Calen asked. “Even though you can’t see the light yourself? There really is a light.”

Silence again. All Calen heard was the soft rustling of leaves in the tree tops. The light in the forest still glowed, beckoning them forward. He turned to see if he could get a glance of Marisa’s expression, but it was too dark.

At last, she spoke in a whisper. “Forgive me, Calen. Of course I believe you. After all, you met Angus, and he said God had given you the task of gathering the Scrolls.” Her hand sought Calen’s, and she squeezed it gently. “I confess, I was wondering, just for a moment, if in your enthusiasm you allowed your emotions to get the better of you.” A sigh escaped her lips. “I am no saint, Calen. I too have my struggles and don’t you ever forget that I’m only here to help. It’s not the other way around.” She squeezed his hand again. “So yes, I believe you. Let’s follow the light, even if I don’t see it.”

Calen didn’t know what to say, but a peculiar warmth coursed through his soul, and a new understanding dawned. Yes, he was broken and flawed, but so was Marisa. Nobody was above their human frailties. It was precisely why they needed the help of God and His footprints.

Just then, the night owl called again. Its haunting cry was full of longing, as if to confirm that Calen was on the right path.

“Let’s take the horses by the reins and walk,” Calen whispered.

Carefully, they stepped off the path. Calen led Hosanna, holding the reins firmly, while Marisa followed with Whisperwind and Tobin. They trudged on cautiously as if every tree held unspoken secrets, ready to reveal themselves at any moment.

When Calen reached the spot where he had seen the glowing print, the light faded before his eyes and the forest was dark again. Then further ahead, just like before, another ethereal glow appeared.

A profound sense of holiness washed over Calen. He felt as if he were walking on sacred ground, surrounded by unseen angels whose mission was to guide them safely to Tobin’s mother. His heart soared and for a moment it felt as if he were flying. He knew without a doubt that they would find her.

They walked on for some time, their feet sinking into the wet earth until suddenly, Calen saw no light. They had reached the last glowing footprint, and it had gone out. He looked around, but there was only darkness.

What now?

Where was the next footprint?

The stillness was possibly even deeper than before. The forest held its breath. Even the owl was silent. Then … softly, but clearly there were footsteps, the leaves of bushes rustled … a shadow appeared among the trees …

Calen froze, his heart hammering, courage seeping out like water through a sieve. “Hello…?” he called uncertainly. “Is somebody there?”

____

*The hymn “I Have Decided to Follow Jesus” is traditionally attributed to the Indian missionary Sadhu Sundar Singh
(19th century).

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