Morgan Rice - Found

Caitlin was surprised to see that he was young. He had a large shock of blond hair, a blonde beard, and bright blue eyes. He smiled, and she could see the sun lines in his face, crinkling around his eyes, and could feel the warmth and kindness radiating off of him.

He took the overflowing pail of water, and, despite the sweat all over his forehead, despite the fact that he appeared thirsty, he turned and poured the first bucket of water into the trough at the base of the well. The sheep crowded in, bleating, muscling each other out of the way as they drank.

Caitlin was overcome by the strangest feeling that perhaps this man knew something, that perhaps he was put in their path for a reason. If Jesus lived in this time, she figured, maybe this man would have heard of him?

Caitlin felt a pang of nervousness, as she cleared her throat.

“Excuse me?” she asked.

The man turned and looked at her, and she felt the intensity in his eyes.

“We are looking for someone. I’m wondering if you might know if he lives here.”

The man narrowed his eyes, and as he did, Caitlin felt as if he were seeing right through her. It was uncanny.

“He lives,” the man replied, as if reading her mind. “But he is in this place no longer.”

Caitlin could hardly believe it. It was true.

“Where has he gone?” Caleb asked. Caitlin heard the intensity in his voice, and could sense how desperately he wanted to know.

The man shifted his gaze to Caleb.

“Why, to the Galilee,” the man responded, as if it were obvious. “To the sea.”

Caleb narrowed his eyes.

“Capernaum?” Caleb asked tentatively.

The man nodded back.

Caleb’s eyes opened wide in recognition.

“There are many followers on the trail,” the man said cryptically. “Seek and ye shall find.”

The shepherd suddenly lowered his head, turned, and began to walk away, the sheep following. Soon, he was heading across the square.

Caitlin could not let him go. Not yet. She had to know more. And she sensed that he was holding something back.

“Wait!” she cried out.

The shepherd stopped and turned, staring at her.

“Do you know my father?” she asked.

To Caitlin’s surprise, the man slowly nodded back.

“Where is he?” Caitlin asked.

“That is for you to find out,” he said. “You are the one who carries the keys.”

“Who is he?” Caitlin asked, desperate to know.

Slowly, the man shook his head.

“I am merely a shepherd on the way.”

“But I don’t even know where to look!” Caitlin responded, desperate. “Please. I have to find him.”

The shepherd slowly broke into a smile.

“Always, the best place to look is right where you are,” he said.

And with that, he covered his head, and turned and crossed the square. He passed through the arched gate, and a moment later, he was gone, his sheep following.

Always the best place to look is where you are.

His words rang through Caitlin’s mind. Somehow, she sensed it was more than just an allegory. The more she dwelled on it, the more she felt that it was literal. As if he were telling her there was a clue right here, where she was.

Caitlin suddenly turned and searched the well, the place they had been sitting. Now, she sensed something.

Always the best place to look is where you are.

She knelt down and ran her hands along the ancient, smooth stone wall. She felt all along it, feeling more and more certain that something was there, that she had been led to a clue.

“What are you doing?” Caleb asked.

Caitlin searched frantically, scanning all the cracks of all the stones, feeling she was onto something.

Finally, halfway around the well, she stopped. She found one crack that was slightly larger than the others. Just large enough to get her finger in. The stone surrounding it was just slightly too smooth, and the crack was just slightly too big.

Caitlin reached in and pried it open. Soon, the stone began to wiggle, then to move. The stone came loose, out of the base of the well. Behind it, she was amazed to see, was a small hiding place.

Caleb came close, huddling over her shoulder, as she reached down into the darkness. She felt something cold and metal in her hand, and pulled it out slowly.

She raised her hand into the light, and slowly opened her palm.

She could not believe what was in it.

As Scarlet stood there with Ruth, at the end of the dead end, her back to the wall, she watched in fear as the group of bullies set their dog loose on her. Moments later, the huge, wild dog was charging, snarling, aiming right for her throat. It was all happening so fast, Scarlet hardly knew what to do.

Before she could react, Ruth suddenly snarled and charged for the dog. She leapt into the air and met the dog halfway, sinking her fangs into its throat. Ruth landed on top of her, pinning her to the ground. The dog must have been twice Ruth’s size, yet Ruth pinned her effortlessly, not letting her get up. She clamped her fangs down with all she had, and soon, the dog stopped struggling, dead.

“You little bitch!” screamed the lead boy, furious.

He burst out of the pack and charged right for Ruth. He raised a stick, sharpened at one end into a spear point, and brought it down right for Ruth’s exposed back.

Scarlet’s reflexes kicked in, and she burst into action. Without even thinking she sprinted for the boy, reached up and caught his stick in mid-air, right before it hit Ruth. She then pulled him towards her, leaned back and kicked him hard in the ribs.

He keeled over, and she kicked him again, this time in the face with a roundhouse kick. He spun around and landed face-first on the stone.

Ruth turned and charged the group of boys. She leapt high in the air, and sank her fangs into one boy’s throat, pinning him to the ground. That left only three of them.

Scarlet stood there, facing them, and suddenly, a new feeling overtook her. No longer did she feel afraid; no longer did she want to run from these boys; no longer did she want to cower and hide; no longer did she want the protection of her mommy and daddy.

Something snapped inside her as she crossed an invisible line, a tipping point. She felt, for the first time in her life, that she didn’t need anybody. All she needed was herself. Instead of fearing the moment, now, she relished it.

Scarlet felt herself infused with rage, rising from her toes, through her body, all the way to her scalp. It was an electric emotion that she didn’t understand, one she had never experienced before. She no longer wanted to run away from these boys. She didn’t want to let them get away, either.

Now, she wanted vengeance.

As the three boys stood there, staring in shock, Scarlet charged. It all happened so fast, she could barely process it. Her reflexes were so much faster than theirs, as if they were moving in slow motion.

Scarlet leapt into the air, higher than she ever had, and kicked the boy in the center, planting her two feet on his chest. She sent him flying back, like a bullet across the alley, until he smashed into the wall and collapsed.

Before the other two could react, she wheeled and elbowed one in the face, then spun and kicked the other in the solar plexus. They both collapsed, unconscious.

Scarlet stood there, with Ruth, breathing hard. She looked around, and saw all five boys sprawled out around them, not moving. And then, she realized: she was the victor.

She was no longer the Scarlet she once knew.

Scarlet roamed through the alleyways for hours, Ruth by her side, putting as much distance between herself and those boys as she could. She turned down alleyway after alleyway in the heat, getting lost in the maze of narrow side streets in the old city of Jerusalem. The midday sun beat down on her, and she was beginning to feel delirious from it; she was also feeling delirious from the lack of food and water. She could see Ruth panting hard beside her as they meandered through the crowds, and she could see that she was suffering, too.