With what joy they welcomed the Shepherd as he sat down in their midst, and after cheerfully congratulating them on having surmounted the precipice, he laid his hands gently on the wounds which Much-Afraid had received when she fell, and immediately they were healed. Then he began to speak to them about the way which lay ahead.

“You have now to go through the forests which clothe the sides of these mountains almost up to the snowline. The way will be steep, but you will come to resting places here and there. These are the Forests of Danger and Tribulation, and often the pine trees grow so tall and so closely together that the path may seem quite dark. Storms are very frequent up here on these slopes, but keep pressing forward, for remember that nothing can do you any real harm while you are following the path of my will.”

It did seem strange that even after safely surmounting so many difficulties and steep places, including the “impassable precipice” just below them, Much-Afraid should remain so like her name. But so it was! No sooner did the Shepherd pronounce the words “danger and tribulation” than she began to shake and tremble all over again.

“The Forests of Danger and Tribulation!” she repeated with a piteous quaver in her voice. “O Shepherd, wherever will you lead me next?”

“To the next stage on the way to the High Places,” he answered promptly, smiling at her as nicely as possible.

“I wonder if you will ever be able to get me there!” groaned poor foolish little Much-Afraid. “I wonder you continue to bother with me and don’t give up the job altogether. It looks as though I never shall have anything but lame feet, and that even you won’t be able to make them like hinds’ feet.” She looked disconsolately at her feet as she spoke. Certainly at the moment they did look even more crooked than ever.

“I am not a man that I should lie,” said the Shepherd gravely. “Look at me, Much-Afraid. Do you believe that I will deceive you? Have I said, and shall I not do it? Or have I spoken, and shall I not make it good?”

Much-Afraid trembled a little, partly at the tone of his voice and partly because she was still Much-Afraid by nature and was already trying to picture what the Forests of Danger and Tribulation would be like. That always had a disastrous effect upon her, but she answered penitently, “No —I know that you are not a man who would lie to me; I know that you will make good what you have said.”

“Then,” said the Shepherd, speaking very gently again, “I am going to lead you through danger and tribulation, Much-Afraid, but you need not be the least bit afraid, for I shall be with you. Even if I lead you through the Valley of the Shadow itself you need not fear, for my rod and my staff will comfort you.”

Then he added, “Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day; nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness; nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday. Though a thousand fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand, it shall not come nigh thee. . . . For I will cover thee with my feathers and under my wings shalt thou trust” (Psa. 91:4-7). The gentleness of his voice as he said these things was indescribable.

Then Much-Afraid knelt at his feet and built yet another altar and said, “Yea, though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me.” Then, because she found that even as she spoke her teeth were chattering with fright and her hands had gone quite clammy, she looked up into his face and added, “For thou art not a man that thou shouldest lie, nor the Son of man that thou shouldest repent. Hast thou said, and shalt thou not do it? And hast thou spoken and shalt thou not make it good?”

Then the Shepherd smiled more comfortingly than ever before, laid both hands on her head and said, “Be strong, yea, be strong and fear not.” Then he continued, “Much-Afraid, don’t ever allow yourself to begin trying to picture what it will be like. Believe me, when you get to the places which you dread you will find that they are as different as possible from what you have imagined, just as was the case when you were actually ascending the precipice. I must warn you that I see your enemies lurking among the trees ahead, and if you ever let Craven Fear begin painting a picture on the screen of your imagination, you will walk with fear and trembling and agony, where no fear is.”

When he had said this, he picked up another stone from the place where she was kneeling, and gave it to her to put with the other memorial stones. Then he went his way, and Much-Afraid and her companions started on the path which led up through the forests.

Almost as soon as they had reached the trees they saw the face of mean, sickly Self-Pity, looking out from behind one of the trunks. He gabbled ever so quickly before he dodged back into hiding, “I say, Much-Afraid, this really is a bit too thick. I mean, whatever will he do next, forcing a poor little lame, frightened creature like yourself to go through dangers which only brave, strong men ought to be expected to face. Really, your Shepherd is almost more of a bully than Craven Fear himself.”

Hardly had he stopped before Resentment put his head out and said crossly, “There’s absolutely no reason for it either, because there’s another perfectly good path which skirts the forest altogether and brings you right up to the snowline without going anywhere near these unnecessary dangers. Everybody else goes that way, so why shouldn’t you? Tell him you won’t go this way, Much-Afraid, and insist on being taken by the usual path. This way is for martyrs only, and you, my dear, don’t fit into the picture at all.”

Then Craven Fear leered at her for a moment and said contemptuously, “So you think you’re going to become a little heroine, do you? and go singing through the Forest of Danger! What will you bet, Much-Afraid, that you won’t end up shrieking and screaming like a maniac, maimed for the rest of your life?”

Bitterness was next to speak, and sneered from behind another tree, “He would do this. It’s just as I told you. After you have dutifully gone through one terrifying experience he’s always got something still worse lying ahead of you.”

Then Pride (who was still limping badly and seemed extra venomous as a result) said, “You know, he won’t be able to rest content until he has put you to complete shame, because that’s the way he produces that precious humility he’s so crazy about. He’ll humble you to the dust, Much-Afraid, and leave you a groveling idiot in front of everyone.”

Much-Afraid and her companions walked on without answering and without taking any notice, but as before, Much-Afraid discovered that she limped more painfully whenever she heard what they said. It was really terribly perplexing to know what to do. If she listened, she limped, and if she put her fingers in her ears, she couldn’t accept the hands of her two guides, which meant that she stumbled and slipped.

So they stopped for a moment or two and discussed the matter, and then Suffering opened the little First Aid kit hanging at her girdle, took out some cotton and firmly plugged the ears of Much-Afraid. Although this was uncomfortable, it did seem to have the desired effect, at least temporarily, for when the five sulkers saw that they could not make her hear them they soon tired of bawling at her and left her alone until another opportunity should occur for badgering her again.

At first the forest did not really seem too dreadful. Perhaps it was that up there on the mountains the air was so fresh and strong that it made those who breathed it fresh and strong too. Also, the sun was still shining, and Much-Afraid began to feel a sensation which was completely new to her, a thrill of excitement and, incredible as it seemed, of almost pleasurable adventure.

Here she was, lame Much-Afraid, actually walking through the Forest of Danger and not really minding. This lasted for quite a time until huge black clouds gradually rolled over the sky, and the sun went in. In the distance thunder rolled and the woods became dark and very still. Suddenly a bolt of lightning scorched across the sky, and somewhat ahead of them was a rending crash as a great forest tree fell to the earth, then another and another. Then the storm in all its fury was bursting around them, thunder rolling, lightning sizzling and crackling in every direction until the whole forest seemed to be groaning and shaking and falling about them.

The strangest thing was that though Much-Afraid felt a shuddering thrill go through her at every crash she was not really afraid. That is, she felt neither panic nor desire to run, nor even real dread, for she kept repeating to herself, “Though a thousand shall fall at thy side and ten thousand at thy right hand, it shall not come nigh thee. . . . For I will cover thee with my feathers, and under my wings shalt thou trust.” So throughout the whole storm she was filled with a strange and wonderful peace such as she had never felt before, and walked between her two companions saying to herself, “I shall not die, but live and declare the works of the Lord.”

At last the storm began to rumble off into the distance, the crashes died down, and there was a quiet lull. The three women stopped to wring the water out of their clothes and hair and try to tidy themselves. As they did this, Craven Fear appeared near them again and yelled at the top of his voice, “I say, Much-Afraid, the storm has only gone round the mountains for a short time. Already it is beginning to approach again and will be worse than before. Make a bolt back down the path as quickly as you can and get away from these dangerous trees before it starts again or you will be killed. There is just time for you to make good your escape.”

“Look here,” exclaimed Much-Afraid most unexpectedly, water still dripping from her hair and her sodden skirts clinging like wet rags around her legs, “I can’t stand that fellow shouting at me any longer. Please help me —both of you,” and setting the example, she stooped down, picked up a stone and flung it straight at Craven Fear.

Her two companions actually laughed for the very first time and started hurling a barrage of stones among the trees where the five were lurking. In a moment or two none of their enemies were visible. Then, just ahead of them, through the trees, they saw a log hut which seemed to offer a promise of shelter and protection from the storm, which certainly was again drawing nearer. Hurrying toward the cabin, they found that it stood in a clearing well away from the trees, and when they tried the door latch, to their joy it opened and they thankfully slipped inside. With great presence of mind, Suffering immediately closed the door and bolted it behind them, and none too soon!

Next minute their enemies were banging on the door and shouting, “Hi! I say —open the door and let us in. The storm is starting again. You can’t be so inhuman as to shut us outside and leave us to our fate.”

Much-Afraid went to the door and shouted through the keyhole the advice they had offered her, “Make a bolt down the path as quickly as you can and get away from these dangerous trees, or you will be killed. You have just time to make good your escape before the storm starts again.”

There was a sound of muttered curses outside, then of hurrying feet fading away into the distance, and it seemed as though this time the advice was being acted upon. Back rolled the storm, fiercer and more terrible than before, but they were safely sheltered in the hut out of range of the crashing trees, and their shelter proved perfectly weatherproof, for not a drop came through the roof.

They found in the room a supply of firewood stacked beside a small kitchen range with a kettle and some saucepans on it. While Suffering busied herself lighting the fire, Sorrow held the kettle under a spout outside the window and filled it with rain water. Much-Afraid went to a cupboard on the wall to see if it would yield any treasure. Sure enough, there was crockery on the shelves and a supply of tinned foods, as well as a big tin of unleavened biscuits.

So in a very little time, while the storm still furiously raged and rattled outside, there they were, sitting around a crackling fire, warming themselves and drying their sopping garments while they drank comforting hot cocoa and satisfied their hunger. Though the uproar of the tempest without was almost deafening and the hut shuddered and shook in every blast, yet inside was nothing but peace and thanksgiving and cheerful contentment.

Much-Afraid found herself thinking with astonished awe that it was really the happiest and the most peaceful experience during the whole of her journey up till that time. As they lay down on the mattresses which they discovered piled in another part of the hut, she repeated again to herself very softly: “He has covered me with his feathers, and under his wings I do trust.”

The storm continued with great violence for two or three days, but while it lasted the three travelers rested quietly in the shelter of the hut, going outside only during the brief lulls to gather wood. This they dried in the oven to replenish the stock they were using, so that others, following on behind, might not be left without fuel. There seemed to be a good store of tinned foods and unleavened biscuits and they supposed that some of the Shepherd’s servants must visit the hut from time to time with a new supply.

During those quiet days in the midst of the raging tempest Much-Afraid came to know her two companions in a new way and also to understand more of the mountain dialect which they spoke. In some strange way she began to feel that they were becoming real friends, and not just attendants whom the Shepherd had commanded to go with her as guides and helpers. She found, too, that now she was accepting their companionship in this way she seemed more alive than ever before to beauty and delight in the world around her.

It seemed as though her senses had been quickened in some extraordinary way, enabling her to enjoy every little detail of her life; so that although her companions actually were Sorrow and Suffering, she often felt an almost inexplicable joy and pleasure at the same time. This would happen when she looked at the bright, crackling flames in the log fire, or listened to the sound of lashing rain overhead emphasizing the safety and peace within the hut, or when she saw through the window the tossing trees waving their arms against a background of scurrying clouds or lightning-rent sky. Or again, very early before daybreak, when she saw the morning star shining serenely through a rift in the clouds or heard the clear, jubilant note of a bird during a lull in the storm.

All these things seemed to be speaking to her in the mountain dialect, and to her growing astonishment, she found it an incredibly beautiful language, so that sometimes her eyes filled with tears of pure joy and her heart seemed so full of ecstasy that she could hardly bear it.

One morning when the storm was rattling and raging through the forest louder than ever, she noticed Sorrow sitting by the fire singing quietly to herself, the words, of course, being in the mountain dialect, which Much-Afraid was learning to understand. This is the best translation that I can give, but you will realize that the original was much more beautiful and full of forest sounds and music.

How lovely and how nimble are thy feet,

O prince’s daughter!

They flash and sparkle

And can run more fleet

Than running water.

On all the mountains there is no gazelle,

No roe or hind,

Can overtake thee nor can leap as well —

But lag behind.

CANT. 7:1

“Why, Sorrow,” exclaimed Much-Afraid, “I didn’t know that you could sing, nor even that you knew any songs.”

Sorrow answered quietly, “Neither did I, but on the way up here through the forest I found the words and tune coming into my head just as I am singing them now.”

“I like it,” said Much-Afraid. “It makes me think of the time when I shall have hinds’ feet myself, and so it is comforting and the tune is so nice and springy. It makes me want to jump.” She laughed at the thought of her crooked feet being able to jump, then coaxed, “Teach me the song —please do.”

So Sorrow sang it over several times until Much-Afraid knew it perfectly and went about the hut humming it to herself, trying to picture what it would be like to be a gazelle leaping on the mountains, and able to jump from crag to crag, just as the Shepherd did. When the day came for her to receive her hinds’ feet, she would be able to follow him wherever he went. The picture was so lovely she could hardly wait for it to come true.