Eden by Keith; Korman Read Free Book Online

than before.
    And just when Eden had no more strength left, her burden lessened, the water dripped from her neck, her muzzle and cleared her eyes. Eden still held on to the tiny goat, but her master now held her body above the current. He passed Eden on to another pair of hands, and that pair of hands to yet another, gray goat and white dog passing from willing hands to willing hands, closer and closer to shore.
    The pilgrims had braved the river.
    In moments, both dog and goat stood on the bank.
    Once on firm ground the tiny creature bleated, “Maaa!” shook the water from its flanks; then gamboled from one large boulder to the next. A shepherd and his flock appeared on the crest of a hill, and the nannie bleated back, “Here!” The goat beamed in delight and ran to Mama.
    Eden watched the lamb run off without even a word of thanks; then shrugged.
    Kids …
    When the dog finally shook the water from her fur she doused the old donkey sitting by his mound of hay. The old fellow grumbled, “Must you—?”
    But the long gray face didn’t seem too put out, almost pleased with himself. “See, I told you your master would never leave.”
    Eden stared back across the water. Out in the river the ragged, goatskin man spoke into her master’s ear, but what he said she couldn’t hear. From the rocky shore it seemed the two were long-lost friends. And as the line of people stood in the water waiting to be touched by the strange man, the sun broke through the flat iron of gray clouds and warmed the water’s edge.
    Before she knew it her master had returned. Eden leapt into his wet arms, and they were both together.
    â€œYour first disciple,” the ragged man laughed from where he stood in the river. “Don’t lose that one!”
    â€œYet I have nothing to teach her,” her master called back. “She is already perfect.” Then to Eden he said, “Come now, let’s dry your paws on these sunny rocks. Who knew this riverbank was such an inviting place? There are plenty of warm stones to spare.”
    The line of people stretched into the water and down the bank. Fear and regret seemed to have vanished from the river’s edge. The air grew warmer and Eden heard the sounds of children playing. One or two dogs came out to play as well. Perhaps they’d only been hiding behind the nearest rock, for what dog would abandon its own children?
    Eden saw two large golden butterflies fluttering over the water. Tired from her big swim, she laid her head down to sleep, letting the younger dogs play with their kids—unable even to lift her head to watch. Her master sat beside her while the throngs waded into the water to be blessed and the day lengthened into dusk.
    That evening the wild man of the water climbed from the stream and stood by the pilgrims’ fire warming his limbs until the goatskins dried on his body. Eden and her master sat with him and shared some food from those who remained behind: a handful of dried dates, a loaf of stale bread and river water from a large clay jar.
    So tired from saving the drowning lamb, Eden barely ate. As the sun set she slept on the pillow of her master’s folded cloak. Faintly she heard the man of the river speaking to her master, words that sounded like a warning.
    â€œYou’ll find no help out there now. Not where you are going. The final test before you walk among men once more. And if you fail to return no one will know where to find you in the wasteland. No one will remember you existed.”
    â€œThere is no wasteland,” her master replied. “Only lands we’ve let go to waste.” But what those words meant, Eden could not say. Though she heard the hint of a smile in the goatskin man’s voice: “A wilderness then.”
    And felt her master smile in return.
    â€œA garden of stone.”

The Wilderness
    When dawn broke the pilgrims had vanished from the riverside along with