Chapter 1

She stared at the afternoon sun, slowly sipping her tea. As always, she was thinking about him, and what adventure he had managed to get himself into this time. But Rose remained confident that Nate would be back soon, simply because she had a sort of blind faith in him.

“Rose, may I talk to you for a moment?” a voice asked.

Rose turned to see Jean Grey-Summers, Nate’s mother, approaching her. “Of course, Jean,” she said. “What did you want to talk about?”

Jean took a seat next to Rose and asked, “How are things going between you and Nate?”

She smiled and replied, “Very well. Just yesterday he was going on and on about making me his wife.”

Jean’s eyes widened as she asked, “Have you two set a date already?”

“Oh no, certainly not. Nate just wanted to make it very clear that he intends to marry me someday. I think he’s even got a ring picked out now,” she said with a laugh. Then she quietly asked, “Jean...how do you feel about this whole...David incident?”

Jean thought for a moment and replied, “I still find it a little hard to believe. Though it’s ironic that I, of all people, would doubt his resurrection. When David died, I lost a part of myself. Then when Nate left, I was sure I’d lost them both. I love my sons dearly, and I guess I’m happy to see them get along so well. It’s almost like David never even died.”

“I know,” Rose said. “Nothing’s really changed since we were kids. David’s still got a huge crush on Angel, and she refuses to accept it. But I think they’re starting to see each other in a new light now.”

He charged through the forest, just missing trees, bushes, and who knows what else. Yet he knew this could be a matter of life and death, so he ignored the voice in his head that told him to give up this seemingly hopeless search. He stopped and listened for the faint sound again. There it was! As faint as a whisper, but he had heard something.

The young man ran to the west, leaping over a boulder, and landed in a bed of dead leaves. He heard the sound again and ran towards a large tree. Just below the tree lay an old man, coughing and wheezing as if he were on his death bed. His gray beard was in tangles, and there was a deep wound on his forehead, slowly leaking blood. He looked up at the young man’s face a mouthed a single word: “Help.”

The young man pulled a cloth from his jacket and pressed it gently against the old man’s wound. Then he picked the old man up and walked down the long slope. He glanced up at the fading sunset, wondering if he’d ever get home again.