Not far away, the village blacksmith was walking slowly through the woods with his wife and daughter. He had grown up here, about two miles west of that stone tower at the edge of his property. His father was a silversmith and taught him all about metal prices in town-the stuff he was now carrying on his back including a special order from Mayor Bartlett’s house (one silver candlestick & one silver serving spoon) He took pride in his work because it always brought in enough money to keep them comfortable.

That shiny new road they were building connected the forest in subsections and other roads branched off to where some lived in the forest itself, paths worn through the grass where wagons and horses tread every day. Some paths were new and easier to get through, others were a muddy mess of foul substance when it rained. Most paths were littered with fallen trees, huge rocks, and the occasional snake. The trees were thick enough that it took all day to get through, if you knew your way around at all.

Traveling in the dark didn’t help matters unless one had a lantern or some other source of light to brighten the way. Even then, some didn’t travel with a light at all and stopped in clearings to camp if they didn’t make it before nightfall. The forest was whispered to harbor creatures unexplainable to those that encountered them.

The creatures were ambivalent though, most having seen them describing them as great beasts that lumbered in shadows, and nearly every story spoke of how the creatures would ignore travelers. He hadn’t experienced any sightings and doubted the creatures even existed, and it was a play of shadows on travelers’ minds when traveling in the dark.

The blacksmith was already in a foul mood when he passed a group of men who shouted “There’s the Kisha!” He knew right away they were talking about him not because everyone knows each other out here but because they only used such names when referring to him. They shouted their insults as he walked by them. Spit flew from their mouths and landed on his back as he turned his head toward them.

They would always call him names like this-but no one else ever did such things. He was what was called a Kishanist, or Kisha for short. He knew that when they spoke that shortened form of his faith; it was an insult, not a call of welcome.

“Good evening.” Saying it loudly, drawing attention from those others on the path passing by as well. Those shouting insults stopped and had the decency to look embarrassed as others passed them on the trail.

“You shouldn’t take their insults with such ease.” His wife spoke to him in a low voice, not wanting to be heard by others. “It just fuels their fervor in keeping us miserable.” Her voice was sad, and he hated to hear that. They perched their daughter on her back, a newborn babe they had welcomed into their home nearly 6 months ago. He adored her and wouldn’t have traded her for anything in the world.

“Killing them with kindness is always the best option. Getting into a fight with 4 men isn’t exactly something I want to get into.” Reaching out to touch her cheek for a moment before dropping the hand to his side. “Remember what our faith says about turning the other cheek in the face of adversity.”

Her eyes flashed with something he wasn’t sure of, but he knew it was likely a streak of stubbornness over the entire issue. A smile lightly lit his lips up. She was the light of his world. They had been together for nearly ten years before being able to have a child. They had wanted to wait until they were more established financially before having any, and they had been very careful until they were ready.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but we need to. We can get through this together. If not for yourself, then for our daughter. She will need us to be strong for her no matter what happens.” She quipped at him and then looked as if she immediately regretted speaking to him that way.

His gaze softened a bit. “I promise you, I won’t let anything happen to either of you. Even if that means having a stake driven through my heart so long as it is yours holding the hammer.” She was already shaking her head, and he knew it would likely have no effect on her decision-making process going forward into what she thought about things from here on out with him regarding the action he did or didn’t take.

He smiled at first, but it quickly fell off as she continued getting more serious. “It’s not a matter of me doubting your ability to protect yourself against them or whoever else out there. It’s you protecting yourself against them. They are getting worse with their insults and I’m afraid it will turn physical at some point.”

She broke off for a moment and looked away, staring at the road ahead as they continued down the path into the forest.

“I know.” He spoke quietly, hefting the sack on his back for more security in its position. “I… I guess I don’t get so upset because of what they were like when we first came here. I know they have good in them. It’s just their bias that clouds their mind when they see us now.”

She spoke no more on the subject. He knew she wasn’t ignoring him, but he wished she would continue to talk to him. He was aware of her issues since the baby was born and he had tried to be as supportive as possible in her breakdowns, depression and other factors which had sidelined her from the beginning. He had heard of that happening to women when they had a child, and now, seeing it firsthand with his own wife, he was more sympathetic to their plight.

“We should get back. You need to rest, and I have many things to do today.” He said slowly, shifting the pack once again. It’s weight a reminder of what they were doing, and how he was going to feed his family.