Free Guardian by Dan Gleed

gaze wandered, she noticed again the small, grey church folded into the hill, almost as though it had sprung fully formed from the ground upon which it sat. Watching it, her thoughts fled back to Matt’s funeral, the only time she had set foot in the place. The events of that awful day had been firmly thrust to the back of her mind, but now the details leapt forward again and, almost unbidden, her footsteps turned towards the tiny haven.
    Hurrying now, she made her way round to the stone arch that sheltered the main entrance and, pushing on the dark wooden doors, discovered they were unlocked. A cool stillness welcomed her as she closed the door and stepped forward to sink into one of the short wooden pews. Dust motes danced in the coloured shafts of light striking through the stained-glass window behind her and an almost palpable silence settled over her. Hardly daring to breathe for fear of breaking the friendly calm, Roz leaned back and looked towards the altar with its austere brass cross flanked by tall, matching candelabra. Silently, she began to contemplate the jumbled events of the last week – was it only seven days since last she’d seen her love? – and found herself subconsciously running through her fears and intentions as though someone was actually there, able to read her mind. To empathise.
    Startled by a great peace that flooded through her, almost like a living entity, Roz found her eyes drawn once again to the cross, only to discover that nothing had moved; nothing, seemingly, had changed. No voice responded to her intensely curious gaze, a fact she found momentarily disappointing. Nonetheless, her limbs felt wrapped in a warm embrace that anchored her to the spot and slowly but surely drained the hurt from her aching heart. For perhaps an hour she sat there, unmoving, reluctant to break the spell. And in waiting, she became submerged in a tranquil calm that engulfed her innermost being, impelling a determination to retain every nuance of the event. She knew beyond doubt the occasion was important and, after a while, with thoughts resolved, she understood with complete confidence that I could and would be found. How or why, she was unable to resolve but, in the hushed serenity, her diminishing fears were replaced, almost miraculously, by a full measure of assurance. She could no more explain this than put her finger on it, but her heart didn’t need an explanation. It was just certain.
    Eventually, she stood and withdrew quietly, latching the door softly behind her. Outside, as she set out on the last mile of her walk, the sun was beginning its steep slide to the western rim of her horizon and by the time she drew near to home, the rapidly lengthening shadows were calling time on the day shift. In the distance she could hear an experimental bullfrog tuning up for the nightly chorus. Just one at first, but gradually tens then hundreds joining in the fierce competition for females, the chaotic mix of calls blending swiftly into one harmonious whole that seemed to saturate the very universe. Until, right on cue, a hyena coughed out its hysterical laughter and the nervousness of night gripped both ends of the food chain.

Chapter 14
    â€œMum, Dad, I’m home.” The companionable sounds of a family at ease with itself and the rich smell of an almost-ready meal greeted Roz as she stepped through the hissing light of a storm lantern suspended on the veranda just outside the front door. The light was a ritual, a familiar gesture that was as much a part of any frontier family as breathing. Wherever they were, as soon as the shadows lengthened, the welcome went up to beckon anyone still not home and to summon passing neighbours or strangers in need of a friendly face. And just as routinely, an army of mosquitoes, moths and sausage flies zinged, fluttered and thudded to their incandescent deaths, the fiery carnage only slightly diminished by the patrolling of random bats.
    Vera appeared