A shadow flashed across the blazing sun and granted Blade welcome reprieve from the hellfire that baked him into the earth like a porcelain doll born of the devil’s blazing kiln.
Despair nearly swallowed him whole when he cast his burned and weary eyes to the sky to find the source of his salvation -- a flock of vultures circled not far above.
Just as the birds descended close enough for him to see their vile faces, their vortex was torn asunder by a blinding ball of light that set itself down at Blade’s feet.
He was terrified but powerless to move and gaped in wonder as a beautiful woman in white stepped onto the desert floor.
“Do not despair.” She smiled and handed him a slip of worn paper.
On it was a hand-drawn red arrow, and the woman pointed to the north.
As if lifted by an invisible hand, Blade stood and walked several steps beyond the stranger. Nothing but scorched, barren earth lay in every direction. He turned toward the woman to protest her instructions … but she was gone.
The paper vibrated in his fingers, and he looked down to find the red arrow glowing. A gust of wind snatched the slip from his hand, and it disappeared into the sky.
Confused and desperate, Blade looked back toward the north and was astounded to find a creek babbling not more than a hundred feet from where he stood.
A man crouched on the bank, drinking liberally from the sparkling water. He stood and smiled, and Blade could see the man wore a reverend’s collar.
“Well, hello, there, son. You look like you could use a friend.”
Something brushed against Blade’s palm.
It was a slip of paper, with a red arrow pointing toward the preacher.
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