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The circle of wild dogs closed on the helpless couple like a noose. They sense Abigail’s weakness. Adam searched for a stick or rock but found only twigs.
He threw up his arms and shouted, hoping to startle the canine mob. To his surprise, one dog yelped, rose off the ground, and sailed, flailing into the night sky.
The rest of the dogs left Adam and Abigail and surrounded the attacker—Alexander, Kailyn’s former husband.
The mighty scholar sent two more dogs flying and crushed another with his foot before the rest retreated.
“Are you okay?” Alexander asked.
Adam was at once relieved and concerned. Grateful to be delivered from the dogs, he still feared for Abigail, remembering her last encounter with the Great Ones. He stood in front of her, hoping Alexander wouldn’t notice her.
“Who is this?” Alexander said, leaning to one side. “Is that Abigail?”
He pushed past Adam and knelt beside her.
“You’ve studied medicine, right?” Adam asked. “Can you help her?”
It only took Alexander a moment to diagnose her condition.
“She needs immediate attention,” he said, gathering her into his arms. “We must get her to the city right away. I can treat her there.”
Even burdened with Abigail, Alexander easily outpaced Adam.
“Wait” Adam called.
Alexander gave a backward glance but didn’t slow.
“No!” Adam shouted. But Alexander disappeared into the night.
How will I find them in the city? Will he take her to the other Great Ones?
Adam recalled that in the previous battle Alexander had stayed with him while the others attacked the children. Would he protect Abigail as well? Or ...
He pushed to run faster.
*****
“Here, drink this.”
Abigail forced her eyes open and wondered if she was hallucinating. Alexander? Too weak to refuse the cup or to even think about whether she should refuse, she took a sip and laid back.
The soothing elixir tasted sweet and soothed her dry throat. Within seconds, the fever broke and she felt her strength returning.
Alexander gently slid his giant hand from behind her head and she came to rest on a feather pillow. She melted into the mattress as the medicine chased the pain from her body.
“Where is Adam?” she asked.
“Close, most likely. I will go find him while you rest.” He placed a large cup on the table next to the bed. “If the pain returns, take as much of the medicine as you need.”
It wasn’t long before it did return. She grimaced as she reached for the cup and took a sip. It brought relief, but not as dramatically as before, so she took a big swallow. Comfort returned. Her body relaxed, enjoying the softness of the bed, and her worst day soon faded into blissful sleep.
When she woke to full daylight, she had no idea how long she had been asleep. Alexander sat reading in a chair across the room. She turned her head. Adam occupied a stool at her bedside.
Adam smiled. “How are you feeling?”
“The medicine helped.”
She looked at the table. Yes, the cup was still there—along with ... Oh my. Grapes? The cluster of tiny green grapes had not been there before.
“Help yourself,” Alexander said, setting his book down.
“No, thank you. But I do want you to know—I’m grateful for all you’ve done.”
“Of course,” he said, now joining Adam beside the bed.
She glanced again at the grapes. “May I ask—what is in the medicine?”
“It’s a complex recipe, but the sweetness you taste is from those little grapes. They have wonderful healing properties.”
“There were grapes in what I drank?”
Alexander smiled. “Don’t worry. They won’t hurt you. You don’t feel any nausea, correct?”
She didn’t, but she wasn’t ready to admit that to Alexander.
“We have conducted extensive tests on these grapes. There are fruits that do great harm, others that harm only when eaten in excess, and others, like those grapes, are good for you. It’s all documented in our studies.”
Abigail pushed herself to a sitting position and glanced again toward the table. An intense craving overtook her. She put her hand on the bunch. “I’ve never seen such tiny grapes.”
“They are rare and difficult to find. Few have ever tasted them. They are used mostly for medicine.”
“I see,” she said, still eyeing the cluster.
Then she closed her eyes, turned to Adam, and reopened them. “We should go.”
Alexander smiled. “That’s fine, if you’re up to it. You’re welcome back any time.”
Abigail slid her legs off the right side of the bed and stood. She paused for a beat, took a quick sip of the medicine, and started toward the door with Adam.
*****
When they first arrived in the orchard, Adam had been painfully aware of the disdainful looks he received from virtually everyone. No mystery why. He was openly associating with what looked to those people like a child. The less traveled paths would reduce their exposure. Adam came close to suggesting it once or twice but couldn’t think of how to say it without Abigail detecting his embarrassment at being seen with her.
Besides, those looks were becoming fewer. Were people beginning to see Abigail as just another woman in the lowlands? If he was honest, Adam would have to admit she looked that way to him. Her child-like joyful spirit and bubbling gratitude had given way to discontent and frequent complaining. She seldom spoke of the Ruler or banquet hall anymore. That troubled Adam, not because he wanted to hear about them, but because recalling them made her happy.
“These paths are so rocky.” Abigail kicked a stone out of the way. “You would think they would do a better job maintaining them with all the people who travel along here.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, not looking up.
“What’s wrong, Adam?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Everything I say, you respond with a mumble—if you say anything. It seems like something’s eating at you.”
He looked off at an imaginary distraction to buy himself a few moments.
“Are you happy, Abigail?”
“Am I happy? You mean, right now?”
“I mean compared to before you left the high country. You used to smile so much there. And I never once heard you complain about anything. Now ...”
“Now what?”
“I don’t know. You just don’t seem like yourself.”
Abigail progressed several quiet paces. “I’m okay. I guess I’m just ... hungry.”
The two walked in silence for half an hour alongside a large vineyard. Abigail veered a few steps off the path, bent down, and picked a single grape. She examined it for a moment, tossed it into her mouth and rejoined Adam.
*****
Neither Adam nor Abigail noticed Hodia sitting on a rise just to the south. She wasn’t sure why she had chosen to sit on that rise and watch the path, but when she saw Abigail, she was glad she had come. What had Abigail been doing all this time in the lowlands? When Abigail ate the grape, Hodia had her answer.
Shaking her head, Hodia turned to go home—oblivious to the arrows the warriors had fired into her heart.
“Look,” Morax said, pointing to Hodia’s tracks. “She’s infected.” The warriors grinned. No question about it—her footprints were shrinking. And her fingernails curled, becoming claw-like.
*****
Abigail’s mind raced. Why is Adam being so quiet? Everyone enjoys a little fruit. What does he expect of me? No one is perfect.
She tried to think about something else—the past, the future, friends, family, a favorite song, the beautiful scenery. None of it brought comfort. She felt incapable of enjoying anything ... except, maybe, another grape.
I’ve already blown it. Might as well get it out of my system. I’ll try harder tomorrow. She ate several more grapes. Slowly, the nausea subsided.
When the sun neared the western horizon, they found some level ground and began preparing their campsite. Adam built a fire and dragged a log to it for a place to sit.
In the past, Abigail would have raved about the magnificence of the starry display on a night like this. Tonight, she never even looked up. She only stared blankly into the fire.
“I’m worried about you, Abigail.”
“Why? Because I had a grape?”
“You know I don’t care about grapes. It’s just that ... well ... I miss ...”
“Miss what?”
“Your smile. I want you to be happy again.”
“Adam, I don’t eat any other fruit. I’m nothing like all the lowlanders, pigging out on everything in sight. It’s just an occasional grape.”
“I told you, I don’t care about that.” After a few moments of silence, he spoke again. “I was thinking we could visit the high country. Maybe go to the banquet hall for a meal. You could see your friends again.”
The fire still held Abigail’s gaze. “I don’t think so.”
“What? Why not?”
“I love my friends, but sometimes they can be”—She searched for the word—“I don’t know, kind of ... judgmental.”
She picked up a twig, turned it in her fingers, then snapped it in half and flicked both halves into the fire. She let out a heavy sigh. “I know I shouldn’t be eating grapes.” She looked up at Adam. “I’ll stop. Okay?”
*****
Morning arrived with a chill that awakened Abigail to a world of misery. She sat up in a bed of watermelon rinds, banana peels, and apple cores. Nausea racked her body like a black death devouring her insides, and she lay back down.
She rolled to her side. A cottage piece had slid from her satchel and in the glint of the morning sun, the polished surface reflected her face. She already knew her days in the orchard had not been kind to her body—she had become obese and her hips had twisted causing a severe limp—but the image she saw in the piece startled her. She hardly recognized her own face. It was hideously contorted and much of her hair had fallen out. She pushed the piece back into her satchel.
On the opposite side of the fire pit, Adam stirred, turned on his side, and continued his slumber. In that moment, she hated him. Even more, she hated herself. Why did I follow him here? How could I be so stupid? She never imagined she would lose control like this.
Adam stirred again. With haste, she gathered her things and stole out of the camp. She didn’t want to talk to him. She only wanted out of the orchard.
The density of the trees made progress difficult, but after ducking through a gauntlet of branches, averting her eyes from the fruit, she emerged onto a broad path which widened into a road. She took several brisk steps, then broke into a run. Faster and faster, every step escalated her desperation. Get me out of this place!
Having run to exhaustion, she slowed to a walk on blistered feet. I’m getting nowhere.
Progress was impossible because the wind was against her, no matter what direction she tried. She knew escape would only be possible with the wind at her back, but on every path, she met only headwind.
She had resolved not to touch any more fruit, but the ache in her stomach screamed for attention. How would she escape her leafy prison without strength? She took a few nibbles, but nothing like the excesses of before. She curled up under a large apple tree, buried her face in her arms, and wept.
A sudden warmth in the air interrupted her despair. She lifted her eyes, and before her stood King Michael.