Hideaway Strath they lifted up their eyes and beheld, a company come bearing balm and myrrh,

@Kynareth Deagon @Derg

Seven days passed without the comfort of his wives. On the dawn of the eighth—trailing fragmentary ambrosia of something vernal, likely all in his mind—he came upon a path.
Gilead could taste the darkness seeping in to him; it was cold to the touch, sucking the wintergreen from the trees, stripping the life from this place. Winter was on its way; this was a time for prayer and sacrifice to hold back that darkness. 
Sacrifice. That was his destiny here; he journeyed in to the endless weald, but he had been sent, and had to abide. His wives would be safe for the winter where they were hidden. The Lord would provide for them, he knew that much.
The full moon stared down at him with its stolen light as he rose to purpose, calling with a song in to the dark.