It was a dark and stormy night. The wind howled down through the valley, the rain was an icy, lashing torrent, bruising in its fury. It was not a night to be caught on a lonely road with a broken down wagon.
The three old women huddled in the shelter of their useless vehicle, their horses having fled when the axle snapped. The youth thought they were a shivering, sodden, sorry sight when he found them.
He'd left the village that morning to find fresh air, and some food that he didn't have to steal. Gods, he was tired of stealing, of living in abandoned buildings, of running from the law, tired of hanging out with older boys who thought the life they were living was fine. Sometimes, he thought he should just take to the forests, live like a wolf, wild and free. It might be lonely, but at least it would be clean.
But, he couldn't just vanish. Hard as it was, there were some who depended upon him, like the old ones who needed fresh meat on their doorsteps to keep them from starving. So, he'd decided to head back to the village, and was halfway there when he'd come upon them on the old forest road. One look told him they needed help, or they could perish from exposure. Bending into the wind, he struggled toward them, calling out to let them know he was there.
"Hey! Ladies...this isn't a good night for travel," he shouted into the wind, a friendly and reassuring grin on his face. "We need to get you under cover before you freeze!"
One old woman sniffed, muttering, "Perfect, just what we need, a young fool to state the obvious."
The youth pretended not to have heard. "Okay," he said, "we need shelter and a fire...mind if we make use of this?" he asked, pulling on a tarp that had torn away from the wagon and was billowing in the wind.
Another of the other women shivered, "Sure, why not?"
Pulling a knife from his belt, he cut the rope holding the tarp then pulled it together with considerable difficulty, folding it under his arm. "Do you think you could walk a little way to get out of this wind?" he asked. When they nodded, he helped them each to their feet and supported them until they were into the sparse shelter of the trees.
Tearing down vines, he tied the tarp over a thicket, and then, pulling some of the brush away, he created a shelter out of the wind large enough for the three women. Once he had them out of the driving rain, he scavenged for enough kindling dry enough for a fire, stripping the sodden outer bark with his knife so that it would burn. Then, he roasted the rabbits he'd caught that day to give them sufficient hot food to warm their insides.
Shivering, the third woman noticed he was more in the rain than in the shelter. She said, "You must have somewhere you are supposed to be. You needn't stay here with us."
He just grinned, "Where else would I want to be than with three lovely ladies?"
The first old woman who had muttered he was a fool, stared at him with suspicious dark eyes. "Why're you helping us?" she asked. Her tone said he'd more likely steal from them.
"Anyone would help, " he said, but frowned a little, wounded. He knew he didn't look like much, but surely he didn't look like he'd hurt little old ladies. Looking away, he continued, "I'll be right back."
Some minutes later, he was kneeling in the entrance of their bower with a large bundle of pine boughs in his arms. "If you lay down next to one another, you can huddle for warmth, and I'll put these over you. Not as good as blankets, but they'll help keep out the wind."
The women were soon cocooned under fresh smelling pine, and found they were no longer so chilled. Wearily, they dropped off into sleep.
He kept watch over them, and fed the fire, through the long night. The storm broke shortly after the dawn. When they woke an hour later, he was already back with help from the nearby town. By noon, they were on their way, and he was heading back to the life he hated but didn't know how to escape. When he was caught a few days later, he thought the Fates really had it in for him.
He didn't know the three old women had been debating whether his thread should be lengthened or cut...had he the potential for good, or was he locked into a path of evil. The storm had been a test...his compassion and concern for strangers, his integrity in watching over them, and the warmth of his spirit won them over. And so more thread was spun and woven...and his life started anew.
The End
