Ask Not -chpt 1-

The stranger strode ahead of me, without turning or speaking, for some time. It was all I could do to hold back my questions and it brought home to me like never before why people such as I should not be allowed out of the teaching houses. After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke:
“The gods have directed me to bring you to the dry sea. I can see that you have little experience in the wilds. You must follow me and listen to all that I say.”
I opened my mouth to speak, all etiquette forgotten, but I could not find the words.
“That beast you saw was a wyvern.” He continued, “Mark it well, for it may not be the last we see on our travels.”
Those final words; “our travels” broke through my stunned silence. Total honesty was the only option, though my face burned red with the shame.
“I am not ready to leave the teaching house. I snuck out without leave or blessing. I am not the person you were sent to find.”
Finally he turned to face me. He looked me in the eyes and answered simply, “The Gods are always right. To believe otherwise is impossible. We will camp at the next clearing and tomorrow we begin our journey to the dry sea.”

It was not long before we reached a clearing, and although the darkness was growing close around us we could not have missed it. In the centre glowed a small fire, and beside it were a bag and sleeping mat. Those were for me, my rescuer informed me; a sure sign that the Gods’ will had been done. He pulled another sleeping mat from his own bag and laid it down without another word.
“Where did the fire come from?” I wondered aloud.
There was nothing around us but gorse bushes and taal trees, neither of which make for good burning. Slowly I became aware that my companion was staring at me, and it suddenly dawned on me what I had done. After all my thoughts and good intentions the question had slipped out like an eel from a young child’s grasp. I was afraid to look at his face, afraid to see the anger and disgust he must feel, but his voice was as impassive as ever when he answered.
“The Gods provide.”

As I prepared for sleep my mind slowly cleared. I had not realised until then how much the wyvern had shaken my nerves. As I slowly pulled my thoughts back together I realised not only how close I had come to death, but also how much I had erred afterwards. As I looked at my rescuer sleeping nearby I took in all of the details that I had previously been too stunned to notice. He was tall, clean shaven, and he wore his fair hair long about his shoulders. His clothes were respectful brown and green, as they should be, and the bow he carried with him showed a powerful beauty and craftsmanship that set it apart as a gift from the gods. Although I should have known earlier, both from his actions and his words, it was only now that I recognised him as a True Follower.
Suddenly I was overcome by a strange type of fear. Before me was a paragon, a person who embodied all the virtues of mankind, who served the Gods with all his soul. He had been sent by the Gods to rescue me, a sinner, from a monster and to bring me to their stronghold in the dry sea. All of this was wonderful, as if every dream of my childhood had come true. Clearly the Gods had a plan for me, and I would spend the rest of my life following their chosen path.
Somehow I resented this.

Quickly I pushed that blasphemous thought away. I vowed that whatever they wanted of me, I would be worthy of it. Tomorrow I would apologise to the True Follower for my behaviour and I would redouble my efforts to silence the questions in my head. Until then however, I slept. And dreamed.