As soon as Walker and Sophia entered the narrow rocky trail they knew they were in trouble. The path went steeply down. Huge boulders in the way forced them to go around. Loose stones from the cliff littered the path so that they were in danger of sliding. After an hour they were breathing hard and their legs were burning from the effort.

The red sun cast long shadows as it set. They knew they had to stop for the night. They spotted a shelter in the gloom of dusk and, sure enough, a heart-shaped rock hid the key for the front door. It was more rustic than the other—no beds, no bread and cheese, no dishes. It did have sleeping bags, though, and a wooden box held beef jerky and dried fruit. A clear brook ran close by and the water refreshed them. They slept on the floor.

The next morning there were up and out the door into a clear sky. They drank from the stream and refilled their flasks. It was hot already.

For hours they went down, down, down the mountain. They often had to stop to rest their sore legs and catch their breath. At midday, when Sophia was beyond the next turn ahead of him, Walker drew out his kayline and spoke softly into it.

“King, this trail is so hard. Surely we have lost our way? Did we miss a turn? Are we still on the King’s highway?”

In that moment he caught a glimpse of blue and when he turned to look more closely, he saw the three blue strips of the King’s Way. That felt like an answer so he pressed on. “Can you send us on a path that’s not so hard?”

The kayline was silent.

Walker caught up with Sophia. She had climbed up on a high rock so she could sit in shade under a stunted tree.  “I’m taking a water break,” she said. “It’s so hot! Do you think we’re lost?”

“No,” he grunted. “We just passed the blue stripes. This is the Way.” He sat beside her and slumped back on the trunk.

“This is so hard!” she said softly. She wiped at her eyes.

They sat until their breathing slowed. Then he said, “I remember what I read in The Letters this morning. It said, ‘Give thanks in all things.’”

“Huh,” said Sophia, startled. “That’s…interesting.”

Walker closed his eyes and said, “Well, uh, thank You, King, that we had shelter last night, water for our bottles that got us this far, and…and for this shade.” He opened his eyes.

Sophia said with a hint of a whine, “My legs are getting wobbly with all this downhill walking. I hope we reach the valley soon.”

From their perch they could see far in the distance. Their trail would eventually take them off the mountain into a flatland of red sand, red canyons, and huge red rock formations. They saw no trees. The sun glared without relief.

It was time to get going. As they hopped off the rock, Sophia landed badly. She fell hard, face first, scraping her hands so that they stung. Walker was dismayed when he saw that they were bleeding. But then, when she tried to stand, pain shot up from her ankle. She sat down with a cry.

Walker got down and gently moved her foot and they decided it wasn’t broken, just sprained. But she couldn’t stand by herself.

Sophia told him now, “I read something like that. I read, ‘Give thanks for all things’. So here goes. ‘Thank you, King, for this twisted ankle!’” They laughed a little at that. How could it be a good thing that she was hurt?

They walked side by side now, Walker helping with his arm around her.

As the day went drearily on they grew terribly thirsty. They were almost out of water, so they just wet their mouths with drops from their bottles.

At long last they came to level ground. They drank the last swallow of warm water as the sun dropped below the horizon. They stumbled on for a while in the dusk looking for a stream but didn’t see any sign of water. Tired and hungry, they sagged to the ground.

“Bag,” panted Sophia. “Water in the King’s bag.” Walker had already tried, but he reached in anyway. Nothing. No water flask came to him or to Sophia.

“King!” wailed Walker. “Why aren’t you giving us water?!”