Another morning dawns. The clouds that usually cover the area have broken up for a time, and the sun shines brightly along the path to the village. Marget has walked up and down this path for many years. She no longer struggles against the quiet, nor does she rail against the forces that brought her here.
Her revere was broken by a cry. Was it an injured animal? Marget paused and listened. She did not want to deal with an animal, but her compassion won out over her revulsion. She stepped off the pathway and into the brush. The cries turned to hiccups, and Marget again paused. This was no animal, it was the crying of a baby; and a recently born one at that. Moving the brush aside, she saw the infant squirming along with the crying.
Someone has recently dropped off the infant. But why? There were a number of reasons. Perhaps the parents were overwhelmed with poverty. Or the baby was malformed, and wouldn't survive this harsh land. Marget stooped down to pick up the baby. It was cold and wet and wouldn't long survive the harsh conditions.
What should she do? If she picked up the baby, she would become responsible. Her teachings would make her so. Should she add to the burdens of the sisters? Perhaps it was fate. Or maybe the baby should be left to go back to its Creator. Surely there was a reason behind this act.
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