The storm raged about them. The wind howled and tore at their ragged clothing. The sky laden with gray and foreboding clouds pressed down on them. Back in the day, in another time and another place they use to call the the wind the "Hawk", the almighty Hawk. Crouching here behind this great slab of rock, it was easy to understand why. The wind and cold was relentless, Just as a hawk is relentless in the hunting of its prey.
The dogs had picked up their scent.
It was a foregone conclusion as far as she was concerned. They were going to die. The cold was insinuating itself into every nook and cranny of the body. Her fingers and toes were beginning to go numb.
"We can make it," he said to her from cold pitted, crack lips. Small clumps of ice were forming over his eyebrows and in the corner of his eyes
"I don't think I can do it. I'm afraid," she replied.
"Just follow my lead and don't let go of my hand.I won't let anything happen to you. We must survive. Do you understand?"
She shook her head... yes. But she was afraid. Across the lake lay freedom and a new life. She knew they had only two choices. Attempt to cross the lake or stay here and freeze to death, that is, if the dogs didn't get to them first. At the moment neither choice appealed to her.
He saw the hesitation in her face.
"Look. Right now you only have to do two things: Stand up and take my hand.
Do you trust me?"
"Yes."
Through the bitter cold and biting wind, he managed a smile, which cracked the ice forming around his eyes and for a moment, a brief micro-ism in time she thought she saw a gleam in his eyes, an eldrich light that seemed to come from within and she knew. And that was enough.
Together they rose as one, her hand in his and set out across the frozen lake, the guard dogs in hot pursuit.
Trust.
Trust is one of the sacred words. If you don't have trust, you have nothing.
Trust is one of the building blocks of not only religion but society as a whole.
Words have power.
What do you think???
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