Excerpt
Derek slowed his pace as he neared the timeworn tree, an expression of astonishment on his face. He stopped before the tree and shined his light upon its gnarled, weathered trunk. It was there! he thought with great wonder. Her mark was truly there, just as she had said it would be! Stepping closer to the tree, Derek reached out a hesitant hand---a hand, the back of which bore a small, spiraling mark; a mark nearly identical to that on the tree---and, with great reverence, gently caressed the round, black scar, cut deep into the rough bark of the trunk. After all the months of searching, they had finally found the sacred place! He had heard all the stories about this place, this sacred tree; stories that, over the years, had become legend within their circle. But now, to actually be here, bearing witness to this wondrous thing; to actually reach out and touch it---! A single, impatient honk of the Mercedes' horn roused Derek back to reality, snapping him out of his contemplation. He withdrew his hand from the surface of the sacred oak tree, feeling a definite sense of loss as he did so. There were still so many important matters that remained to be concluded, he told himself, forcing his eyes from the tree. So many more plans still to be made. Turning away from the sacred oak, he walked out to the brink of the gradually sloping hill, a few yards away. Gentle gusts of crisp, fall air caressed his goateed face and tousled his long, pony-tailed hair as he gazed down at the sprawling patchwork of sleeping tract homes---like long rows of large, oddly-shaped building blocks, spreading out below him in a labyrinth of curving and intersecting streets---stretching, it seemed, to the dark horizon. Off to his right, an uneven line of houses, and a long block wall bordered an expanse of open field, angling away from him; the spread of the residential community commencing at that point. The line of houses that bordered the bottom of the hill continued below him, then followed its sweeping curve away from him, to the left. Surveying the sleeping community spread out below him, the man could not help but think how ironic it all was. Those people down there probably thought of this barren hilltop, this rough, overgrown land as a total waste; an eyesore, at best. Little could they ever suspect the true significance of this sacred place; the singularly fabulous treasure that lay buried here; beneath this earth. Looking down, he took particular notice of the boulevards and streets which led to those few houses that were situated directly below him, a hundred yards down, at the base of the hill. One house, in particular, caught his eye; a spacious two-story with a large, rectangular backyard which came right up to the base of the hill. That house would be the one to consider, he decided. That house would be perfect for their needs. By its bordering the hill as it did, the house had few backyard neighbors to contend with, and was located at the nearest point to the sacred place on which he now stood. Satisfied with his decision, and the directions he needed in order to locate that particular house now firmly implanted within his mind, he turned from the crest of the hill and carefully made his way back across the uneven ground; back to where the Mercedes was parked. "Well, tell us, Derek! Is this the place?!" the woman who was seated in the passenger seat of the car asked eagerly, as Derek climbed in. "Yes," the man answered, nodding his head affirmatively. He looked with genuine admiration at the wizened, bent figure that was seated within the shadows, in the back seat. "It is all there, Holy One," he stated, emphatically, his voice filled with reverence. "Exactly as you told us it would be." The bent figure seated in the back seat merely nodded her head, but said nothing.