ANUNDR: THE EXODUS by N. U JOSHUA

watched him dip his hands into the bag and bring out a loaf of bread. He cut it into two and offered her a part. She held up her hand to decline.
    He said, ‘Eat, or we shall have nothing to discuss.’ She took it and nibbled at it, while he tore at his.
    ‘Forgive my manners.’ he said when he finished. ‘It’s been almost two days since I ate.’
    ‘You have no reason to apologize. You can even have mine.’ she said, extending her barely eaten chunk.
    ‘No, I will not. Thank you for your kindness and for joining me. You may ask your questions now.’
    She put the bread aside and said, ‘Who sent you?’
    ‘The ‘‘who’’ is not important at the moment. It is the ‘‘what’’ that should concern you. ‘‘What sent you back?’’ should be your question.’
    ‘What’s the difference?’
    ‘There’s a big difference. It’s like asking who brought you here and what made you come here. The “who’’ and “what” may be connected but they aren’t the same thing. We both know that the “who” may not always like the “what”.’
    ‘I don’t understand.’
    ‘You are a princess. You must understand.’
    ‘So answer me. Who sent you?’
    ‘Are we still on that question? I told you I won’t answer it.’
    ‘And why not?’
    ‘Because you would ask me lots of “whys”, “hows” and “wheres” that are as irrelevant as the question itself. The “who” has no basis to the “what” but the “who” is controlled by it. Answering the “who” will not answer the “what”--it would only confuse you.’
    ‘I’m confused now.’ She sighed. ‘Why are you here?’
    ‘Ahhh….’ he said, smiling, ‘Now that is connected to the “what”. I’m here for many reasons. Soon, you shall see them yourself.’
    ‘Why are you not answering me?’ she said, getting up.
    ‘I am and you don’t even know it yet.’ He chuckled. Natalia took a deep breath and clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms. She needed to control the urge to strike him. She decided to change her question.
    ‘What did you mean when you said Behozi is dead?’
    He smiled and gazed into her eyes.  ‘Behozi died the day I found the answer to my questions and Felman was born.’
    ‘Behozi isn’t a bad name.’
    ‘No, but it reminds me of a past I would rather like to forget, which brings us to why you’re here.’
    She paced back and forth as she talked, ‘I’m not sure why I’m here. I just needed to talk to you. I fear falling asleep because I find no comfort in my dreams. Every night, I have dreams that show me something imminent in my path—but I have no one to talk to. I thought I was going mad until I saw you.’
    ‘What do you dream about?’ he asked, leaning forward.
    ‘Sometimes, I see myself holding stars, then they fall from my hands into a large cauldron and melt…I also see a room full of mirrors--’
    ‘How many are the mirrors?’
    ‘I cannot tell but I see myself in seven of them, in different clothing and in different periods of my life. Then, one by one the mirrors start to crack and fall apart.’
    He gasped.
    ‘What is it?’ she asked.
    ‘Have you told anyone about these dreams?’ His tone had changed. He was rocking himself.
    ‘No, I haven’t.’
    ‘Good. Tell no one.’
    ‘Why?’
    He didn’t reply. She knelt before him and held his hands.
    ‘Please tell me what you know. These dreams—they’ve become all I see when I close my eyes at night.’
    He stroked her cheek. His hands were warm. She didn’t flinch. She felt safe with him.
    ‘It isn’t my place to tell you but I must say this. Amongst enemies you shall find many friends and amongst friends are many enemies but your greatest enemy will be in yourself.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘You have a great destiny, child, but it could also destroy you. Those mirrors represent the Seasons of the Morph.’
    ‘What does that mean?’
    ‘I’m afraid I’ve said too much.’ he said, withdrawing his hand