Walker and Sophia were out of water. They sat in the trail in the dusk and they were thirsty. Walker realized his mind was saying over and over, “…where the living waters run.” Wearily he recited the whole riddle:

“Seek the burning embers 
Where the living waters run.
A house of stone remembers there 
The death of the Living One.”

Sophia was too tired to comment. The full moon rose above the low hills. It gave enough light to see the path clearly, so they got heavily to their feet to walk a little longer. The air was cooling quickly. Soon it would be chilly. No shelter was in sight.

They climbed a rise and gasped in surprise when they saw moving lights down in the plain below.  They quickened their steps. Soon they arrived at a green bowl in the dry land. They had found an oasis. A small stream flowed over a rock shelf into a clear pool. One tree was planted by the water, casting a long moon shadow on the rippling surface. The first thing they did was stumble to the edge of the pool where they knelt and drank and drank the cool water. Then, faces dripping, they filled their water flasks.

When they got up from the pool refreshed and satisfied, a woman was waiting for them. “Hello! My name is Priscilla. Come and join us.” She led them to a fire-ring where three families were assembling, six adults and four children. Walker and Sophia made twelve. The two older children were carefully stacking stones into a fire-ring in the center of the circle. When it was done, Walker watched everyone there take a box out of their bag and tip it into the dark fire-ring so that a glowing thing fell into it.

Priscilla turned toward them. “Have you found your ember box in your haversack yet?” They shook their heads and reached into their bags. Into Walker’s hands came a warm metal box and when he opened it he saw a live coal.

Priscilla said, “Tip it into the ring. You’ll pull it out later.” They did. The pile of embers glowed vividly and then flame danced above them. The oldest man fed it with dry wood. The light made all their faces shine.

“Hi everyone!” Priscilla got their attention. “This is Sophia and this is Walker.”

Priscilla introduced her husband, Timothy.

“How do you do,” he said.

“Our children are the Josiah, 15 and Betsy, who is 8.”

“Hi,” they said with a wave.

“My sister Jenny is over there, and her husband is Arthur. They children are Abigail, who is 14 and Reed who is 9.” They smiled and waved.

And here is Grandpa,” she said, sliding her arm around his waist. “Our father. And our mother is called Grandma by everyone.”

“Tell us who you are. How do you find yourselves in the desert? What is your story?”

Sophia told them, beginning at their meeting, telling of their trial at the wildflower way and the fall she took coming down the rocky mountain trail. “If I hadn’t gotten hurt, we would have been here long before dark and found the water we needed to get to the next shelter.”

“Well, now. That’s something. We were also delayed. The cook wagon broke down a few miles back and we had to stop to fix it. It appears it delayed us just enough for us to make camp and gather with you! I believe our King wanted us to meet.”

Sophia looked at Walker. “It was a good thing I got hurt!!” She giggled.

But Walker mumbled to Priscilla, “I felt like the King didn’t answer my prayer or that He didn’t care.”

She replied quietly, “He heard. His answer was, ‘Trust me.’”

From the cookfire near the chuckwagon the scent of cooking meat and potatoes wafted over and made Walker’s stomach growl. Soon Priscilla and Timothy passed out to each a heaping plate of hot food. They dug in. Walker thought it was the best meal he had ever had.

As they ate, the company told stories of their travels on the King’s Way, one after another. Betsy said, “Yesterday a butterfly landed on my arm and stayed there for hours. She was very pretty.”

Josiah, who had helped stack stones, said, “One night we saw shooting stars. The sky was full of them. I was in awe.”

Arthur said, “We missed a flash flood by minutes. Just after we got out of a dry river bed a powerful flood roared down from the mountain that had just had a heavy rain. The King be praised.”

Story after story bubbled up like fountains from the grateful company. Walker felt like his heart had been dry but now was refreshed with the flow of stories about the lovingkindness and faithfulness of the King. It was like living water running through the assembly. Something tickled his mind but he brushed it aside and listened to the talk around the fire.