Eve: In the Beginning (16 page)

After a few swipes, the bear caught a fish with its claw.

Eve gasped quietly next to Adam. “Did you see that?” she whispered.

The bear’s mouth clamped over the fish, and then the bear left the river and ate the fish on the shore.

Eve shuddered, but her eyes remained riveted on the bear.

“It seems we were at the bear’s favorite place to catch fish,” Adam said. They watched the animal walk into the river again.

The bear easily caught a second fish and then returned again to the shore to eat it.

Adam let out a breath of relief. They were wet and cold but seemingly safe from the bear.

“Now where do we go?” Eve said, breaking into his thoughts.

Adam wasn’t sure anymore. North had seemed to be a natural plan, but the river turned east. The earth looked so vast, and the choices were endless. Confusion hardened in his mind.

“We should just keep to the river so that we can always find our way back to Eden,” Eve said.

“All right,” he said. The insects seemed to have followed them across the river, so they walked a little farther away from the bank, where the insects didn’t thrive as much. They continued walking at a decent pace, keeping a closer watch out for other animals.

As the sun descended in the sky, the temperature grew even cooler, colder than it had ever been in the garden. Adam, having had nothing to eat most of the day, felt his energy wane as they continued to walk. He noticed that Eve was having a hard time keeping up with his already slower pace. The mountains loomed to the east, yet they were still quite far away.

There were no fruits or berries on any of the trees or shrubs they’d passed. Adam kept glancing toward the river, thinking of the fish that swam just below the surface and the bear that caught them. Then he thought about the bear’s warm coat of fur and what he’d have to do to capture and kill the bear.

Adam shook his head. He couldn’t believe these thoughts were entering his head. He’d never considered killing any animal in the garden. But now ... the endless rocks, the dry earth, the blowing wind, and the increasing cold all combined to force him to face his new world.

Eve stopped in front of him and sank on the ground.

At first, Adam wondered if she’d injured herself again, but when he crouched next to her, he saw the exhaustion evident on her face. “Should we rest?”

She blinked up at him, her face.

“Are you still cold?” he asked. She simply nodded, pulled her legs up, and wrapped her arms around them. Adam stood and looked around for anything nearby that could provide shelter. The scraggly bushes near the river would offer little protection, and the trees were sparse in this area.

“I’m so hungry.” Eve’s voice seemed small as it floated up to him.

Adam decided that if he could find her something to eat, she could walk farther to where they could seek some sort of shelter. “I’m going to the river,” he said.

Eve barely acknowledged him, and he hurried to the riverbank, glancing frequently in her direction in case any unwelcome animals appeared.

He studied the flow of the water and looked for the unmistakable flash of gray that would indicate a fish. Several fish swam by, but he was unable to catch them and only got wetter in the process. The water started to numb his feet, and Adam let out a breath of frustration. The coldness of the water seemed to seep through his skin and slow his muscles until he felt a deep pain in them, and the wind made the skin that wasn’t in the water break out into bumps. He tried again and again to capture a fish. He didn’t have claws like the bear or anything sharp to catch the fish with, and he didn’t think throwing a rock at a fish would make much of an impact.

He walked out of the water, shivering. As he moved toward Eve, his nearly numb feet stung with every step. “I’m going to use one of the coats of skin to catch the fish,” he said when he reached her.

Eve barely nodded.

Adam removed the extra coat around her shoulders, wishing he didn’t have to. Then he returned to the river. He knotted one end of the coat so that he’d have something to catch the fish in and hoped they’d swim right into it.

It took several tries to catch the first fish. It was small and gray and flopping like mad in the wet coat.

Adam carried it to the shore. Clenching his teeth together at the thought of what he had to do, he picked up a rock, then struck the helpless fish. Blood immediately seeped out of the fish, and Adam’s stomach twisted furiously, but he knew it was food. He’d seen the bear eat it.

He pulled the skin and flesh apart and discovered extremely sharp bones that supported the fish’s shape. Several bones poked Adam, nearly bringing blood from his fingers. Other parts inside the fish were various colors and shapes. He tossed those back into the river and made a pile of the flesh. He set aside the bone, thinking it would be useful to have something small and sharp to use at their new dwelling.

Glancing at Eve, he saw that she hadn’t moved from her position. She still huddled in the single coat of skin, her knees drawn up. Adam picked up a piece of the fish and smelled it. His stomach roiled, and he wished he hadn’t inhaled. It would be difficult enough to eat, but there seemed to be no other choices.

Putting the piece into his mouth, he pretended the moist smoothness was that of a fruit. He chewed quickly and then swallowed. Closing his eyes, he felt the piece travel down to his empty stomach. He waited a few moments as it settled.
I’m still alive.

He ate another piece, then another. Moments passed, and his strength returned by a small measure. Now he just had to convince Eve to eat.

Adam laid the wet coat over the nearby bushes. It was heavy with water now, and he hoped it would dry out, even in the cold air. He walked over to Eve and knelt next to her. “Eve,” he said. “I brought you some food.”

Her eyebrows lifted in response.

“I’ve tried it myself and find it nourishing,” he said.

For a long moment, Eve stared at the pieces of fish in his hand still colored with blood. Finally, she picked up the smallest piece and put it in her mouth. In an instant, she spit it out and gasped.

“I — I can’t eat that!” she said.

“You have to,” Adam said. “It’s all there is. Our world is different now, and we have to make changes.”

Eve exhaled with a shudder. “Haven’t there been enough changes already?”

He put one arm around her. “I’m sure there will be a few more.”

She closed her eyes. “I know. I just ...” She opened her eyes a slit and looked at the fish pieces. “That’s a
fish
.”

“It’s nourishing, Eve. You must eat. It will give you strength so that we can find shelter for the night.”

Eve closed her eyes for another moment. Then finally she opened them and picked up another piece of fish. This time she didn’t spit it out.

“Try another one,” Adam said.

She took another piece. “This is the last bite I’ll take. I can wait until we find something else after this.”

And out of the ground made God ... the tree of life also in the midst of the garden, and the tree of knowledge of good and evil
.

Genesis 2:9

Adam pulls me to my feet, and although I’d rather just curl up in the dirt and fall asleep, I move with him. My husband says we need to keep moving to find shelter and that the sun is keeping the air warmer now than it will be at night when there is only the moon.

My skin has never felt so dry. Neither has my throat, and my stomach is taut with hunger. I don’t dare try to eat any more of the fish, and I think of the abundant fruit that I wasted in the garden. The walking never seems to end, but just as Adam does, I put one foot in front of the other, then repeat. We see another bear, but this one just watches us from the other side of the river. I’m grateful it’s on that side and not our side.

A shiver trails through me, and I grasp Adam’s hand, not only for warmth but because I’ve never felt more alone. In the garden, I knew every tree, every animal, and it was home.

But this place ... this place does not welcome me.

The cold wind, the rocky ground, and the lack of sweet fruit or herbs are all joining together
against
me. Although Elohim warned that I would bear children in sorrow, I feel the sorrow entering my heart now.

I feel as if I have been weighted to the earth. The only reason I keep walking, despite my weakness and my bruised feet, is because I can’t let go of Adam’s hand. His warm, strong hand is all that I have to keep me moving forward.

Dark seems to fall fast in this new land. As the sky changes from blue-gray to indigo, our steps slow. The moon is a sliver tonight, and the rocky ground is not easy to navigate in the lesser light. Hunger prods my stomach. I wonder how just one day of little eating can cause so much pain.

This fallen body feels things much more intensely.

Exhaustion prompts my next words to Adam. “I don’t care if we sleep in the open, with only each other to brace ourselves against the wind.”

Adam must be colder than I am, for I am wearing the coat of skin from Elohim. Adam carries his wet one, which he sacrificed in catching the fish.

He finally stops and looks down at me. I can see his concern, which is clear even in the fading light of day.

“There is nothing here to shelter us,” he says. “It can’t be much farther.” But he is staring ahead and, like me, sees nothing that looks promising.

“I’m so tired,” I say. The changes in my body are not what I expected. I feel as if I could sleep anywhere.

“Come on,” Adam says, pulling my hand toward the river. We stop at a group of low bushes. They are not enough to block the wind, but it seems that Adam’s exhaustion has won out too. His coat of skin is still damp, but he spreads it on the ground, and we lie next to each other, pulling my coat over the both of us.

My back is to Adam, and he wraps his arms around me. It takes several moments, but finally I start to warm, at least where we are covered — although I don’t think my legs and feet will ever be warm again. With Adam’s arms around me, I am more aware of his every movement, his every breath, than I have ever been. I focus on the heat that his body brings. It’s too cold to think of much else.

The morning sun has never felt better on my face. Every part of my body aches, but at last I am warm. Then I notice red bumps on my arms, and I scratch at the itching spots. The insects didn’t stay just by the river after all. The torn skin on my palms is ragged and dirty. I must wash my hands again. I turn my head and realize that Adam isn’t lying next to me. When I sit up, I see him near the river; he’s caught another fish. My stomach twists at the thought of eating a fish again.

Adam catches me looking at him, and he smiles.

I smile back.

We’ve survived our first night in the wilderness.

I can see that Adam is quite wet and surely cold. How he can endure it, I don’t know. I pull my legs up and tighten the coat of skin around me, protecting any warmth that might stray. The sun’s rays are still early, but they’re doing a marvelous job of heating my face and arms. Even if today is a hot day, I will enjoy every moment. But the clouds to the north tell me it won’t be a hot day. We are about to experience our first mist in the wilderness.

Adam strides toward me, carrying a fish. His feet are covered in mud, and the mat tied around his waist drips with water. This time I say nothing and simply eat as much as I can. I know the fish will nourish my weak body, and that is the only way I can force myself to swallow.

“Are you feeling better?” Adam asks.

“I love the sun,” I say, and he laughs. I enjoy hearing it, and I laugh with him.

“Did you see any bears this morning?” I ask.

“No. I think they must sleep late, like my wife.”

I shake my head with a smile. Adam returns to the river to wash off his hands, and I watch how the muscles in his shoulders and back work as he moves. I had never really noticed before how there is definition to each muscle in his arms. I know that I’ve touched them many times, but the thought of touching his arms now makes my chest warm, and I wonder if that is another characteristic of my changing body.