The wind came from far in the east, and it swept across the land in a cool whisper. The mountaintops glistened with crisp snow; the sky was a delicate pink.
     His touch was soft, eyes imploring.
     Eileen slowly withdrew her hand from his, but kept her gaze fixed on his eyes. “I have not known a more persistent man than you, Marls Japheth.”
     A smile crept onto his face. “Then do it.”
     The only sound was the wind rushing through the trees that hovered about them.
     Finally, she drew in a breath—a long, heavy, exasperated breath. “It is wrong.”
     “No, it is right.”
     “How can you say that?”
     “How can you say otherwise?”
     “Marls,” she said his name on a sigh. “It is never right to kill. What you do is wrong—all of you.”
     The smile fell from his face, as if he just considered the fact that she may indeed turn him down. “Eileen, please.”
      “No.”
     He grabbed her hand, pulled her against him. He met her lips—gently, soothingly, passionately reminding her how much she loved him...
     She jerked away and took a step back. “Marls, no.”
     His eyes, dark and handsome and mysterious, flashed with anger. “I can do this without you. I just thought maybe this could mark a beginning for us. If you think I am going to be a poor herdsman like your father, you're wrong. I'll not scratch and save and starve like the rest of these gutless poltroons! And if I must kill to get happiness, then so be it!” He turned and stalked away, his boots crunching the leaves beneath him.
     She watched him until he rode away. She wanted the earth to open up and swallow her—wanted the trees to fall and crush her. She wanted death to take away the love she was feeling.
     How did things go so wrong? He had seemed so right, so perfectly handsome and pious. And then, things started changing. He stopped praying with her—she found out about his friends. The ones who camped out in the woods, who killed innocent travelers on the road, who stole money to buy wine and riches...
      And he wanted her to be his wife? To be a partner in his wickedness? Surely he thought she was stronger than that. Surely he knew she could never be his wife now...not now. Surely he knew...
     Tears swelled in her eyes. She only wished she could be as sure.
    

     It was three weeks later. She hadn't seen him—hadn't even heard from him. Perhaps he'd forgotten about her, and she should be glad. But why did she keep looking out her window, watching for a rider? Why did she go to bed thinking of him, and wake up the next morning with his laugh ringing in her ears?
     Eileen stood in the kitchen, cutting bread for their supper.
     The door slammed...
     She turned around...
     Her heart leaped in her chest. It was him.
      “Eileen...!” he rasped. He leaned in the doorway, his chest bloody, his eyes sunken, features pale. “Help me...you must...!”
     She ran to him and helped him stand. “What shall I do?” she asked quickly. His touch was making her skin chill...
      “Get a horse. Help me on. Get bandages, clothes, food. Meet me tonight at that cottage in the woods.”
      “The old one, hardly standing?”
      He nodded, still breathing hard. “Fetch the horse. And say nothing to your father.”
      They went outside and she helped him on a horse. He reached down and grabbed her arm, urgency consuming his features. “Promise me, Eileen. Vow to me you'll come.”
     She stood there, her heart screaming out at her not to do it. But her heart was no match with his pained, desperate eyes. She nodded. “I shall come.” 
     “Promise?”
     She nodded again. “Yes, I shall come indeed, without delay. When darkness comes, I shall come.”
     With those words, he was gone.

     His shoulder throbbed with such pain that he cursed out loud to the empty cottage. The cold floor made him shiver, despite the warm fire he had managed in the fireplace. “Come on, Eileen...” he whispered.  Why wasn't she coming?
     He heard a horse outside, then the door opened. Eileen walked into the room, her brown hair bouncing in curls around her shoulders, her green eyes soft and beautiful...
     “How fare you, Marls?” She came and sat next to him by the fire.
     “I am not well. Indeed, I am in much pain.”
     He saw a very gentle smile in her eyes, but she was too prideful to let it curve her lips. “You must take your shirt off,” she said.
     He grinned. “What would your father say?” he teased her.
     Coldness seeped into her eyes. “We are doing nothing wrong, Marls. You are hurt; I am helping you. I would do the same for any other.”
     “Would you?” He brought her hand to his cheek, and soothed it over his feverish skin. “You are a liar, Eileen,” he whispered softly. “You come here only because I am the man you love. If I would have been a stranger, you would have sent me away.”
      Eileen pulled her hand away. “Will you remove your shirt, or not?”
      With a sigh, he pulled the shirt over his head. Then she started bathing his wound, gently wrapping it in that calm way of hers, her eyes intent on her work. “How did it happen?”
      He coughed, avoiding her, but she kept persisting. Finally, he sighed. “I was robbing a man and his daughter. I didn't figure the daughter would cause much harm, so I took my eye off her and—”
      “And she stabbed you?”
      He nodded, and she went back to her work, a look of disgust on her face. She was a good woman—a woman who deserved a man who could offer her everything. She needed a man of her faith, a man of strong morals and dignity. But I'm too selfish to give her up. I wish I could be what she wanted, but I can't. So she'll just have to learn to live my way, because I love her too much to let her go...
     He fell asleep with these thoughts.

     Just tonight. She would just stay tonight to get him back on his feet. He was ill—he needed her. No Christian would leave him alone—would they?
     But he still needed her the next night. And the next. She started forgetting about going home—the thought seemed heart-breaking. She didn't want to leave him, she wanted to always be with him, always...
     She wasn't sure how many days it had been, but it was morning and she woke up to the sound of Marl's chopping wood outside. He'd been working with the place, turning it into a warm cottage—a home.
     She pulled the covers back and got out of bed. One of Marl's friends had brought the bed, and Marls had willingly given it to her. He slept in the larger room, by the fire.
     Marls came in the door, his black hair disheveled. He looked disturbed and his cheeks were red as if from anger. “I am leaving,” he said without preamble.
      “What?” Her throat constricted. “What do you mean?”
      He started grabbing his things from the cottage, stuffing them in a large leather pack. “A friend just came and warned me. Their searching the woods for me. I've got to get out of here.”
      She stood there for a moment, too stunned to move. Finally, she whispered, “What about me?”
      He met her eyes, stopping in his steps. He laid the pack on the table and went to her, drawing her into his arms. “I could not think of leaving you, love,” he said in her ear. “But I want you to do what is best.”
      Tears swelled in her eyes—her heart was breaking. She knew what her father would say. She knew what her mother would say and the clergyman and God. But did she care enough to let him go without her?
      “What is right, Marls? We were wrong, but it feels so right. What am I to do?”
      He met her lips, pressing hard with vigor and desire. “I want you with me. I want it and you want it. How can that be sinful? What God would think that was wrong?”
     Still, she hesitated.
     “We can get married, if that would make it more righteous.” He paused and grazed her lips again. “Come, and make haste. I will go far, and if you hesitate, we might forever be separated.”
      Eileen nodded. “Then let us go.” She slipped out of his arms, praying for forgiveness for what she was about to do.

      Marl's friends were waiting for them outside of the woods, and together they began their journey. They traveled for days, riding from dawn till dusk, eating stale bread by a small campfire. It was nearly a week later before they decided to make camp in a large, thick woods that would hide them from their pursuers.
     It was another week of hard labor. They set up huts, dug pits for fires, carried water for food. The cooking fell on her hands, and it seemed that all she did was slave over the fire to feed their dirty mouths.
      It was late one night, when one of the men came back from a raid. He handed the bottles of wine around, and the men thirstily devoured it. It wasn't long, until they were all drunk, including Marls.
     Eileen stayed close to the fire, her feet and hands cold. The men's vulgar cursing and harsh laughter had become familiar to her, and it no longer made her nervous or dismayed. She thought, with some sadness, just how much she'd left behind. She could be lying in her bed at home right now. Could be saying her prayers, listening to her parents talk in quiet whispers outside her door. But she was here, amidst thieves and murderers, participating and condoning to their sin. But she was with Marls—and that would make her happy. She could always be happy with him, and as soon as they could, they would get married. Then everything would be fine, and she'd be happy...
     She shivered against the cold of the night. Her dress was limp and worn, and there had been so little too eat on the journey that she'd grown much thinner.
      One of the men came towards her, swaying as he laughed. He reached down and grabbed her, yanking her up to him.
     Desperation pushed through her—she screamed. But he kept pursuing, he kept kissing her... She needed Marls. Where was Marls?
      She caught him in the corner of her eye, but he was just watching them and grinning. Wasn't anyone going to help her?
     She pushed him away, pushing, pushing, pushing...
     He fell backward... Into the fire...
     Eileen gasped and stood back. The flames devoured him, eating at his flesh...
     Men pulled him out, poured water over him with as much celerity as their drunken state would allow. Marls, who was bent over the man, looked up at her. He said the words that she'd been dreading: “He's dead.”
      The men's cold stares bored into her. Then there were murmurs, and anger, and more cursing. A couple men came towards her. “You killed him!” one growled.
      Marls stepped up behind them. He was incredulous. “He was drunk, Eileen! He was harmless—just having a little fun!”
      “I'm...sorry...” she mumbled. She took a step backwards, but one of the men followed her. With great force, his fist knocked into her head, sending her to the ground. A foot kicked into her ribs, then again. She rolled over, curled up into a ball. She heard Marls shouting at them, then he lifted her up into his arms.
      “It's either her, or us, Marls! We'll not have a killer in our midst!”
      She buried her head into his chest, but she still heard him reply, “Are we not all killers?”
      “We don't kill our own.”
      “It was an accident.”
       She heard them shouting more, then he set her on her feet. “Come, Eileen.” He took her hand. “We are leaving.”
      She looked up into his face. “You would trade them for me?”
      They went to his horse, and it was not until they were mounted did he answer her. “I love you, Eileen. And I do not forsake love.”
      They started riding into the night, and Eileen fell asleep in his arms.

     It was morning, and she awoke to find him smiling at her. They were in some beautiful space of flat land—a field with green grass as far as the eye could see.
     “Good morning, love,” he said softly, still smiling.
      She wondered if the wine had wore off by now. He seemed more pleasant than was his norm.
      “Why are you so happy?” she asked, sitting up.
      He walked over to her and pulled her to her feet. His dark eyes were strangely tender, almost unbearable to look at. They were so dark and mysterious...
      “I am happy,” he whispered, “because this day marks a new beginning for us, Eileen.”
       Her heart filled as she basked in the sweetness of his love—of his arms around her waist—of her name spoken softly from his lips. “What do you mean?”
      “I want to have a family with you—I want to live a good life that will make you happy.” He touched the bruise on her cheek. “I want you to be around people that will treat you kindly, who will treat our children kindly.”
      “And what about...my faith?”
      “Your faith,” he said on a sigh, as if thinking it over. “You may go to the church and pray as much as you like. In fact,” he chuckled, “I like it when you pray. It's very adorable.”
       “And our children?”
       “Let them choose for themselves. I shall not influence them, and neither would you. Let the truth persuade them, let them make their own way in life.”
      “Their own way in life,” she breathed his words, thinking. Their own way would lead them away from Christ—away from goodness and righteousness, away from the things of God. It would lead them to where it had led her. Sin. They would be dirty. They would think they were happy, because they were doing what they thought they wanted to. But inside, deep within the depths of their very souls, they would be hurting. And she would be hurting, too. She would watch them, yearning to show them God's way...
      Tears pooled in her eyes as she looked up at him. “Marls?”
      He smiled again, and her heart started hurting so desperately she thought claws were ripping out her soul. “Yea, love? What more can there be to say? Shall we go?”
      “No, Marls,” the words came out on a sob. “I can not.”
      His eyes grew darker, painful, as the rejection hit him. “What?” he whispered.
      She touched his cheeks. “I have been a fool—but my children will not be. I must go home, Marls. For the sake of God, I must go home.” 
      He stared at her, unbelieving. “You would forsake our love—for God?”
      “Yes,” she answered him. The tears streaked down her cheeks like tiny river. “For God, yes.”
      He turned away from her, and it was the last time she would ever see his face. “Then go. There is but one horse. Take it.”
     “What about you?”
     “I will manage.”
      She mounted the animal, then looked down at him once more. His back was still turned from her, but his shoulders wracked with pain. “For the sake of God,” she breathed, then she rode away.