She lifted up a prayer for his safety, for all their safeties. Even though she knew that in the Tribulation, most saints would lose their heads. It was a fact they lived with on a daily basis—a fact they had come to accept. Yet before they possibly faced that end, Nyla had vowed to save and shelter as many saints as she and Calan could. And UnderHisWings had been born, a safe haven where Tribulation saints could find rest, fellowship, protection, and food. Best of all, their numbers grew daily as many people finally woke up and turned to Jesus for salvation.
Nyla thought on these things as she rushed through the forest, praying that God would allow her a little more time to help save more people. Halting before a wide stream, she wiped sweat from her brow and chuckled. It wasn’t too long ago she’d been the one arresting “Deviants” and sending them to their deaths. Oh, how the Lord had changed her!
Catching her breath, she glanced over the creek, at least twenty yards wide and filled with huge boulders that, if one was careful, could be used as a bridge to the other side. Water dashed against and between them, tossing white foam in the air and forming little waterfalls.
The sound of the rushing creek washed over her, soothing her as she rubbed her belly, praying for the safety of her child. It wasn’t the best time to bring a babe into the world—and they certainly hadn’t expectedorplanned it—but God’s will be done.
She glanced over her shoulder. If the soldier was good, he’d not be far behind. But he couldn’t track her over this creek. Carefully stepping on the first boulder, she leapt to the next one and the next, avoiding any wet spots that would be slippery. One fall would either crack her skull on a rock or send her tumbling down the river in the mad rush of cold water. No thanks.
Finally, she made it to the other side and was about to turn and disappear into the forest when she heard a familiar voice.
Averyfamiliar voice.
“Stop right there!”
On the other side of the creek stood her brother, pointing a gun at her chest.
Kyle! He looked good, older, more muscular, and quite handsome in his uniform. She wanted to smile. She wanted to hug him. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed him until that moment.
“You going to shoot me, Kyle?” she shouted back.
“Come back over here so I don’t have to.” He gestured with his Glock for her to cross the creek again.
“Can’t do that.” She shook her head, knowing she should run, but desperate to look at him awhile longer.
He fired.
The bullet whizzed past her ear. Close. Too close. Her heart shriveled. Did he miss on purpose or were they too far apart?
Kyle must have thought the latter because he started across the creek, leaping from boulder to boulder.
Turning, Nyla ran as fast as her belly would allow.
???
Ranoss waited for her command, anything that would grant him permission to protect her.
Alternatively, Zhaviel also waited, but somberly, for said command would cause him to do harm to his own ward.
From on shore, Ranoss nodded at his friend as he walked beside Kyle on the boulders. “I know ’tis hard for you, Zhaviel. He does not yet believe.”
Zhaviel’s gaze was fixed upon Kyle. “I do oft wonder why the Commander has me remain with him. Will he ever believe? His soul bears many wounds from his past, wounds he hopes this world and our enemy will heal.”
“But only the Father of Spirits, the Almighty God can bring such peace and joy.”
“Aye.” Zhaviel nodded, gripping his spiked club in hand, waiting to do the unthinkable for a Guardian Warrior Angel—harm to one’s ward.
Nyla looked at her brother, a pained look on her face.
“She loves him,” Ranoss said, just as she turned and dashed into the forest. After one last glance at Zhaviel, Ranoss followed.
Clearly conflicted, Nyla struggled forward around trees and shrubs, tears flowing down her cheeks. “Do him no harm, Father, but please prevent him from following me or catching any of us.”
There! Finally, the prayer they’d been seeking.
A shriek of pain echoed through the forest. Nyla halted, breath heaving, and spun around.
Another yelp.
