In the creation breathed into life by the Word, stirs a folk song from Neva, her sweet voice weaving through the canaries' chirpings, the trilling of orthoptera, and the murmurs of a river nearby.
Her tiny fingers move with practiced ease as they weave a wildflower wreath, when a low, strange growl snaps the delicate thread.
Her body tenses as a wild dog with blood-smeared jaws prowls towards her.
She slowly backs away as the dog draws nearer, almost monstrous in appearance, with its vicious snarl and demonic gaze.
An instinctive prayer rises in her chest, her pulse hammering in her ears as gooey saliva drips from the dog's ferocious jaws.
Terror freezes her as the dog lunges, its roar tearing through the meadows as a sharp cry escapes her.
A pained shriek follows a loud thud, then quick, running footsteps approach her.
Another loud thud follows a howl of pain, her whole body trembling before a familiar voice cries out, "Be gone, you demon!"
Her eyes slowly open to find Ishmael, hurling another rock at the dog as it struggles to rise on trembling limbs, blood smearing its dirty taupe coloured fur.
"Be gone!" Ishmael cries, snatching up another rock and hurling it at the dog as it limps away.
His chest heaves as his fists clench around the rocks, watching the dog vanish into the foliage at the beginning of the woods.
As his gaze drifts towards her, his eyes soften with worry, the rocks dropping from his hands as he rushes to her side.
"Ishmael," Neva murmurs, tears slipping down her cheeks.
"Neva, have you been hurt?" Ishmael kneels down before her and cupping her cheeks.
She shakes her head, a sob slipping from her lips, and Ishmael doesn't waste a
moment before wrapping his arms around her.
"Do not be afraid, Neva," Ishmael murmurs. "I will protect you."
Choked sobs escape Neva as she clutches Ishmael's ragged shirt tightly in her fists.
"Shh..." Ishmael gently caresses Neva's hair. "The dog is gone. Nothing can hurt you anymore."
"Y—you left me a—alone," she stammers, choking on her words.
"I am here now." His arms tighten around her. "I will never leave you again."
"P—promise?" she asks.
"I promise," he replies, when his gaze falls on the riverbank. "Look, Neva, fireflies!"
She slowly pulls back, her deer-like cocoa eyes sparkling with remnants of tears and restored delight under the late noon's warm glow.
She leaps to her feet and runs toward the riverbank, where fireflies twinkle among the daisies and shrubs.
Her laughter rings through the meadows, the breeze teasing her curls as she hops and twirls amongst the golden magic of fireflies.
And he can't help the grin blooming across his
lips, nor the utter bliss sweeping through him as he presses a hand over his fast-beating heart.
"Ishmael, come nearer!" Neva beams, waving a hand at him.
Ishmael is struck with a heartbeat of love as a rosy blush warms her cheeks, her sweet, ethereal face the closest he has ever come to glimpsing heaven.
He rises, then, the grass soft beneath his feet as the world deepens into darkening evening, igniting within him an urgent need to protect her. Yet, guilt stirs within him, too, for she was almost wounded when he left her to gather blackberries in the woods, where he had discovered them unripe a few days ago.
When he emerged from the woods, his shirt crafted into a pouch filled with ripened berries, his grip loosened as he found Neva hounded by the dog.
Now, as he walks towards the spirit-like figure twirling among the golden fireflies, her musical giggles enlivening the darkened world, he prays that God will keep her by his side forever, so that whenever danger threatens her, he will always be near to protect her.
Ishmael remembers reaching her,
dancing with her amidst the fireflies, before taking her hand and leading her home, only to find Grandpa already coming to collect them.
And he remembers the anxiousness he felt at the deep folds in Grandpa's brow, heralding a scolding, but also the warmth in his chest at knowing he had someone waiting at home who cared enough to worry over even the slightest break in curfew.
But in his dreams, he walks endlessly through Miraeth's shadowed meadows, and valleys, and mountains, never reaching her.
It's been ten years since he lost her, and still, he searches for her, with no answers to his prayers.
He slowly opens his eyes, hollow and grieving the colours and hope that has been stolen from him.
Even as dawn creeps through the chinks in the dark-grey curtains, his soul sinks deeper into the void.
Agony burns inside him at his helplessness, while his faith gradually withers with each passing day.