Chapter 2

"In the name of Wisdom, I sacrifice this first catch."

It wasn't much of a prayer. Rather trite, really, when you consider he was saying it as he killed a living thing. The flapping fish held on the rock altar before the White Oak, Tom sliced his fishing knife down into its body just behind the front fin. Its blood, juices, whatever you want to call them, came out, even as the fish struggled harder for a moment beginning to still. Liquid, clear-ish red, hit the rock as his knife began moving down the length of the sacrifice's body, following the ribs. It had been years since he had filleted a fish, but Tom's hands were steady. One filet now off, he turned the fish over, repeating the process. The rock under his hands warmed, as if nourished by the blood. So, too, the tree before him glowed.

"In the name of Wisdom, I offer this in thanks."

Both filets off, he left them on the alter and picked up the carcass by the tail. Moving to his left, he stood before the fire. Yesterday had been spent building the stone fireplace, rocks stacked up to the level of the altar, with slightly higher sides to hold in the wood and coals. The fire wasn't that big, but figuring it should do the job he lowered the fish head onto the center of the coals, letting go of the tail. The body dropped down, sparks and smoke rising. Picking his knife and the two filets up, he stepped back.

He could hear her. Hear Wisdom sigh in pleasure, the smoke rising up into her branches even as the blood trickled down to the ground. Bowing, trusting a God could make sure the unattended fire did no mischief, Tom turned and began the short walk down to camp.

Tom was not a religious man. Had not been raised religious. Mom and Dad had taken them to church on Christmas Eve and Easter, maybe a few other times. Now and then, Mom would get the bug, and they'd go for a few weeks. Then something would come up, they missed a week, then a month. He wasn't even sure what he was, religiously. Whatever type of Christian wasn't Catholic. Sunday school, needless to say, had not been a regular part of his growing up. He knew little, mostly what you pick up on TV, or in movies. He knew of animal sacrifices. Kind of remembered the Jews did them, although he didn't think they did now. You'd probably have PETA bitching about them if they were.

Stepping out of the Sacred Path, Tom made his way across the meadow to his camp. The sun was up, a little, the day just starting. He had risen with the desire to test out his new fishing pole, using some worms he had gathered before bed. Five minutes later he had a fish. What kind? Who knew. The kind big enough to eat. Sitting down on the collapsible chair he had bought with the pole, he tossed some butter in the waiting frying pan, then the fish.

This was how it was going to work, he thought. The Lady would provide. He, Tom, would give her part of the first whatever. After that ... well, probably, there would be holy days at some point. Her version of Christmas or the 4th of July. But, apart from that, just don't anger her, be ready to jump when she called, and life would be good.

He could do that.

The idea that there WAS a god, though, a living ... well, not breathing, god, still amazed him. He hadn't been an atheist, naturally. No sane moral person would call themselves one of those. But, god, or, God, had been for those better than him. For those with family, friends. God had seemed to have no place in his plans for Tom, so Tom had not bothered to have a place for God.

That, he now knew, had been very stupid of him.

The fish sizzled nicely. He probably should learn how to cook it well, but for now he just wanted something in his tummy before going back into town. Flipping the fish over with an old metal spatula, he thought again about what he was going to need. A saw, yes. Ax, not just the small hatchet he had. A book on how to build a log cabin would be nice. Maybe some plans. Tom was sure, with Wisdom to guide him, he could build something on his own. She had already strongly hinted, though, that she would not actually DO any work. Provide, yes, but it was up to him to use what was provided to create what he needed.

A wife.

That's what he needed. A wife. It was kind of required, if he was to found Wisdom's new people. No woman, no descendants. His eyes went over to his tent. A woman. Companion. Someone ... to be with him. Talk to him. Hold him. Someone ... to UNDERSTAND him.

"Lady," he whispered, "help me to find her."

One hundred and twenty dollars.

At least. More, probably. Taxes, fees. Close to a hundred and fifty dollars, maybe, to bring her closest friend and her younger brother out of bondage.

And Alice didn't have it.

Eighty. If she asked Mr. Falk for all of her next paycheck, she'd have eighty. And she had to pay for food. Would have to pay for food for all three of them! And there wasn't a need for more employees here. She knew that. Most of the customers came in when Mr. Falk was here, and he only paid her to work when he wanted time off, or to stock shelves. The sweet man was generous, but not THAT generous!

God, what was she going to do. Sitting down on a stool behind the register counter, she lay her head down on the worn, polished wood top. What could she do...

Alice didn't even look up as the sleigh bells rang. Fuck customer service. She needed someone to help HER! A white knight, to swoop in, save her and her friend...

"Um ... excuse me."

Alice raised her head. It was him. The man from the day before. She looked up into brown eyes that seemed to swallow her. He, too, seemed to be staring at her. Realizing that, she jumped up, hands reflexively going to straighten her long dirty blond hair.

"Oh! Sorry! Um, hi! What can I do for you?"

The man smiled. It was an honest smile. Not one that wanted something from her. Well, given he was in a store, he probably did want something. God, she was being an idiot. His eyes left hers, looking around.

"Well, I do need a book or magazine on building log cabins, but..." His eyes returned to her, concern plain to see. "Are you OK? Anything I can do?"

Yes. He could give her a few hundred dollars.

The man blinked.

"Excuse me?"

Oh God! She had said it aloud! Her hands flew up to her mouth, eyes wide in horror.

"Oh God! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to say that! Please! Don't think I'm like that! I'm sorry!"

He laughed. There was a ... self depreciation in that laugh. The man's life had been hard, too. She could hear that, see it in how he moved, now that she looked. Shaking his head, the man's smile was rueful.

"It never hurts to ask, naturally."

"God, I'm an idiot. I'm sorry."

"You already said that, and I said it's OK. Don't worry about it."

Her face had to be bright red. Alice hated being embarrassed. It was just, well, embarrassing! Focusing, willing the blood to leave her face, she regained her composure. Eyes going back to the stranger's face, Alice almost lost it again. There was sympathy on his plain face. She didn't want sympathy. She was strong. Could take care of herself. Was going to.

"OK," she said, taking a deep breath. "I'm not sorry. What did you need again?"

He nodded, moving back from her a touch. That ... that was sweet, giving her more personal space. His eyes went around the store.

"I have some land near here, and I'm thinking of building a home on it, maybe a log cabin type thing. Right now I'm in a tent."

"I'm in a tent, too," she said, without thinking. His eyes widened a bit. Alice smiled. "That's going to have to change before winter."

"Exactly. So, I have to figure out what I can build by myself before fall. I have experience with Lincoln Logs, so there's that."

She laughed, rewarded with the stranger's smile. She moved her right hand up to brush some of her long blond hair out of her eyes.

"I love log cabins," she said.

"Really?"

"Yeah." Her face once again felt a bit hot. "I saw Little House on the Prairie a lot as a kid, although that wasn't really a log cabin. I even designed one in school."

"You did?" He leaned forward again, one hand on the counter. Alice found herself leaning towards him as well, hand holding onto her side.

"In Mechanical Drawing. Our teacher thinks he's teaching future architects, so he likes giving us all these design projects. It was fun. I did a log cabin last semester."

A wave of depression hit. Her current project was on her desk at home. A restaurant to fit into Central Park. She'd never finish it. Never hand it in to Mr. Keller. Never ... never graduate. Never...

"Hey." His voice was soft. His hand was, not on hers, but next to it on the counter. Alice's gaze came up into his eyes. "If you want to talk about it with a total stranger..."

Her name was Alice.

Tom watched as she dove into the burger and fries. She had said the diner gave her a discount, but it was obvious she had not been spending much on food regardless. This might even be her breakfast, or brunch. Hell, if he didn't do something for the poor girl, it might end up being her "lupper". He felt a bittersweet smile at that word. His sister had invented it, combining lunch and supper. Little Mary...