THE PREY OF THE TERRIBLE
(Isaiah 49:25) 

By Tessa Harvey


    "Why didn't you hurry?" Ainslie raged while her dog slumped near the fire, half-tired, half-afraid. "You were so slow and now he's gone. He could have fallen and drowned!"
    "Someone came for him," her grandfather stated firmly. "I couldn't get near because of the tide, but I could just see enough to know he was being pulled up and climbing as well."
    "Well, why didn't you follow them?" the young girl demanded.
    "And what right have we to do such a thing?" her diminutive grandmother interrupted. "Calm down and don't be so rude."
    Ainslie burst into tears. "Why haven't you ever told me about my family, my real family?" She saw the older couple wince at that remark and thought, good.
"That boy looked just like me. You said it was getting dark, but how many people have bright orange hair in very tight springy curls? We recognised each other!" she declared dramatically.


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