Eden by Keith; Korman Page B

faces. “So far I have never starved,” she told the donkey. “There is food by the roadside for me as well. Through thick and thin, somehow the world provides.”
    That settled matters. So in the end the donkey joined them.
    They journeyed north towards the great lake. And yes, the world was broad and wide, and as each league passed they found food where it appeared and neither dog nor donkey went hungry. They kept to the river where grass grew and in the swampy places they rooted about in hoopoes’ nests and stole pelican eggs. In other places, her master swept fish out of eddies with his hands to flap on the rocks, cooking them on hot coals. At night he spoke by the campfires of those who journeyed, and food was shared even when there was little to go around.
    But somehow, miraculously, neither man nor animal starved. And as the sun rose each day, Eden and the donkey looked ahead with fresh eyes.
    After a few nights, the two animals and their master were no longer alone, as newcomers had joined them. These were also travelers who stopped to listen by the campfire, only to awake the next dawn wishing to follow the sound of the master’s words and see the wider world. Without even an invitation the newcomers abandoned their personal journeys, as if joining paths with a dog, a donkey and a total stranger were the most natural thing in the world. But where this stranger, his dog and the donkey would lead them—where the travelers were bound or what they would find—no one knew.
    What they did know was expectation in dawn’s first breath, free of fear, free of doubt—as though this trek past nameless hills and hovels, this march along the river, heralded some great event.
    Perhaps this was when the mice of the field began to mark their passing, peeking through the tufts of grass at the travelers’ padding feet, then murmuring mouse to mouse— behold! Behold !
    A stranger who walks from place to place , needing nothing to sustain him but a few fish from the river, a little water and the arc of heaven over his head as shelter for the night. Clearly, this is no ordinary man , the mice whispered among themselves, nor those who follow him . Why do they follow? What can they hope to gain? And what purpose served? No mouse could say.
    After many leagues the stranger’s journey brought him to the shore of a wide lake, where on a hill nearby a great celebration was being held.
    As the companions trudged up the dusty road, they learned the celebration was a wedding. The revelers welcomed them into the circle of tents.
    At first the travelers rested on the edges of the party asking neither for food nor drink. But after a few moments Eden sensed a familiar smell, the family-smell. There on the ground, a footprint! The scent of sawdust and wooden-handled tools, the scent of sharp chisels and the sweat of working—yes, she knew it now! A member of her master’s family—her master’s mother! And Eden put a familiar face with that familiar smell.
    The woman from the carpenter’s shop emerged from the crowd to welcome them and Eden rushed to greet her. And once more that familiar hand stroked Eden’s ears as it had all those years she had lain in front of the shop watching the world pass by.
    Soon the platters and jars were passed around and the travelers ate and drank their fill, wrapped in the embrace of the wedding party as if they had always belonged. The gray-faced donkey found a mound of hay behind a tent, and Eden a great lamb shank discarded by the fire pit with thick shreds of meat clinging to it.
    But as the day drew on and more and more people came to join the party of tents, the servants were called again and again to fill every jar and every cup and every plate. And as greater numbers joined the celebration, the platters of food began to thin and the jars began to drain, and Eden saw the worried looks on the faces of the elders. Their dismay grew as the