Instead of flying, it ran in front of Leo and Zimri, flapping its wings as though trying to lead them to a better place.
The boys were soon in full chase, and everything else was forgotten. The bird let them keep close, and they never noticed how far they were getting from the safety of the castle garden. They heard their friend Belle calling to them, but her voice sounded faint and they had more far exciting things to do than listen to her.
Suddenly the sand rose like a cloud, and the sound of galloping horses filled their ears. All they could see in the dust were occasional glimpses of horses and riders. The boys never thought to call out to the king's son as they clung to each other in panic.
Strong arms reached down and seized them, and Leo and Zimri knew they were in the hands of the enemy. In another minute they were strapped to the back of a horse, racing off to the dwelling of the enemy.
The boys cried and begged to be taken home, but in vain. They were told to stay silent. They would be kept as slaves. Further and further the horses galloped, taking the two brothers away from the safety of the king's son. They could see no flowers laid out in a carpet now, no brightly coloured bird, only a wilderness of rocks and sand where nothing grew. Ahead was the stronghold where the enemy lived, with iron bars at the windows to keep the prisoners inside.
Zimri thought of the king's son, how he had rescued them from a place as dismal as this, and how he had promised them safety if they did not stray out of the garden. Zimri looked at his brother, but to his surprise Leo smiled and seemed no longer to care that he was a prisoner.
Suddenly Zimri realised that the strap that bound him to the horse had grown loose. In a moment he slipped from the saddle and fell to the ground, hitting his head on a rock. No one noticed him fall, and for a long time he lay there unconscious, almost lifeless.
When he came to, the sound of the horses had died away and the sand that their hooves had disturbed had settled. He could see no trace of their tracks, and had no idea of the way back to the king's son. Wherever he looked, he could see only sand and rocks, baked by a scorching sun high overhead.
Zimri called for his older brother, but got no answer. He staggered to his feet as the sun beat down on his head. His tongue felt dry and swollen from lack of water. He dropped to his knees, ready to die.
He thought again of the king's son, of Belle who had shouted an urgent warning after he crossed the line with Leo -- his brother who was probably already a slave in the terrible castle of the enemy. And now here he was, dying in this desolate place. He called to the king's son, but his voice was so weak that it seemed unlikely he would be heard. Even so, he cried out several times.
As Zimri closed his eyes he thought he could hear someone calling his name. But perhaps it was all in his mind, confusion brought on by the fall. He heard the voice again, and it certainly sounded like someone calling his name. He remembered how his friends had often told him the king's son was unwilling for any of them to be taken prisoner. Through his cracked lips he continued to call to the king's son, begging him to come to his rescue.
Suddenly a shadow fell across his blistered face. He looked up to see the king's son blocking out the hot sun, standing with a welcoming smile. Zimri recalled the same look on that face when the man had come to their filthy hut after their mother died. He had rescued them then, and taken them to live in his castle, and given them new clothes and good food.
The man reached out his hands and took Zimri in his arms. Zimri thought he could hear horses' hooves in the distance, but he knew he was safe, for no enemy would dare come close now. He had never felt such comfort, as the king's son carried him safely over the scorching wilderness and set him down carefully in the shelter of the castle.
Belle and his other friends were there to welcome him, but Zimri hung his head in shame. Then, as he looked up into the face of the king's son, he could see great warmth, mixed with kindness and love. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he thought of his disobedience, and how the king's son had loved him so much that he had come to his rescue when he called out.
Zimri was washed tenderly, and king's son rubbed healing ointment onto his blistered face.
"My brother Leo isn't here," Zimri said at last. "Will you rescue him, too?"
The king's son looked sad. "You called out to me for help, Zimri. I cannot rescue people who do not call out to me."
"Leo has not called out to you?" As Zimri put the question he remembered how Leo had seemed almost happy to be taken prisoner. "Has he?" he asked.
The king's son shook his head.
As the days and months, then the years went on, Zimri and Belle often watched to see if Leo would be carried back safely to the castle. In the end they thought maybe he was dead, or perhaps had become one of the enemy's servants and was waiting out there in the wilderness, ready to snatch anyone who was foolish enough to leave the safety of the garden, looking for what they thought were even better things.
But Zimri never stopped thanking the king's son, that he had heard him call out when he was taken captive by the enemy. He had been rescued by the great love of the mighty and merciful king's son. Maybe, one day, his older brother Leo would call for help too. And if he did, surely the king's son would run to him and carry him back safely in his loving arms.
Epilogue
The Bible tells us that the world is a fallen place where we are born without knowing the Lord God, rather like the land where Leo and Zimri first lived. Jesus rescues us and washes us clean, then welcomes us into God's family as His children. Even when we belong to God's family we will often stray, so like Zimri we must be quick to call to Him for forgiveness. Then He will bring us to safety. It is right to pray for our own family and friends, and tell them about Jesus, but Jesus cannot make anyone come to Him if they do not want Him.
Some Bible verses:
[Jesus said] "What man among you, if he has a hundred sheep and has lost one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the open pasture and go after the one which is lost until he finds it? When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders, rejoicing. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and his neighbours, saying to them, 'Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep which was lost!' I tell you that in the same way, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance." (Luke 15:4-7)
If we confess our sins, He [Jesus] is faithful and righteous to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. (1 John 1:9)
Now He [Jesus] was telling them a parable to show that at all times they ought to pray and not to lose heart. (Luke 18:1)
NOT LOST, BUT GONE BEFORE!
Original story by Margaret Gatty
"I wonder what becomes of the frog when he climbs up out of this world and disappears. Does anybody know where he goes?" The dragonfly nymph asked his companions this question a hundred times a day, as he darted through water of the woodland pond in search of food.
"Who cares where the frog goes?" one of the nymphs snapped. "What is it to us?"
"Look out for food for yourself," cried another, "and leave other people's business alone."
"But I really want to know," the nymph explained. "I followed a frog just now, and he began to disappear as soon as he reached the edge of the pond, and then he was gone. Did he leave this world, do you think? If so, what can there be beyond?"
"You idle, talkative fellow," cried another nymph, shooting by as he spoke. "Keep your mind on the world you're in, and leave the 'beyond' -- if there is a 'beyond' -- alone. See what a meal you've just missed with all your wonderings about nothing." So saying, the speaker seized a small grub that was swimming right in front of his friend.
But do what he would, the nymph could not help thinking of the curious disappearance of the frog, and presently began to bother his companions about it yet again. "Somebody has to tell me. What becomes of the frog when he leaves this world?"
The minnows passed by without speaking,
for they knew no more about it than he did, but were not going to show their ignorance. The eels wriggled away, for they were always cross and could not bear to be disturbed.
The nymph grew impatient, and at last persuaded several of his friends to share his curiosity. They all went scrambling about, asking the same question of every creature they met. "What becomes of the frog when he leaves this world?"
Suddenly there was a heavy splash in the water above them, and a large green and yellow frog swam down to the bottom of the pond.
"Ask the frog," a minnow suggested, as he darted by with a cheeky look in his eye.
The thing was much easier said than done, for the frog was a dignified sort of creature. The smaller creatures in the pond were a little afraid of him, and it took a great amount of courage to ask someone as important as a frog where he had been, and where he had come from.
Still, such a chance of hearing his question answered was not to be lost, and after taking two or three turns round the roots of a water lily, the dragonfly nymph screwed up his courage. Approaching the frog nervously, he asked, "Is it permitted for a very unhappy creature to speak?"
The frog turned his gold-edged eyes on him in surprise, and answered, "If you're unhappy it might be better if you said nothing, for I only talk when I'm happy."
"But I will be happy -- if you let me talk," the nymph said quickly.
"Talk away, then," the frog said.
"Respected frog," the nymph replied, "there is something I want to ask you."
"Yes?" the frog said -- not in a very encouraging tone but, still, permission was given.
"What is there beyond the world?" the nymph asked, almost too quietly to be heard.
The frog rolled his goggle eyes round and round. "What world do you mean?"
"This world, of course. Our world." The nymph suddenly felt much bolder.
"Do you mean this pond?" the frog asked.
"I mean the place we live in, whatever you may choose to call it," cried the nymph. "I call it the world."
"Do you, sharp little fellow?" the frog said. "Then what is the place you don't live in, the 'beyond,' eh?" And he shook his sides with amusement as he spoke.
"That's just what I want you to tell me," the nymph replied quickly.
"Oh, indeed, little one!" The frog rolled his eyes again, this time with an amused twinkle. "Listen, and I will tell you. It is called dry land."
There was a pause of several seconds, and then, "Can I swim about there?" the nymph asked.
"I should think not," the frog chuckled. "Dry land isn't water, little fellow. That is just what it's not."
"But I want you to tell me what it is, not what it's not," the nymph persisted.
"Of all the inquisitive creatures I ever met, you certainly are the most troublesome," the frog said. "Well then, dry land is something like the mud at the bottom of this pond, only it is not wet, because there is no water."
"Really?" interrupted the nymph. "What's there, then?"
"That's the difficulty," the frog replied. "There is something there, of course, and they call it air. But you live here under the water, so I don't know how to explain air to you. I suppose it's the nearest possible thing to nothing. Do you understand?"
"Not ... quite," the nymph replied, hesitating.
"I was afraid of that. Now just take my advice," the frog urged, "and ask no more silly questions. No good can possibly come of it."
"Honoured frog," the nymph replied, "I must disagree with you. I think great good will come of it, because right now I feel miserable and restless because I still don't know where you go when you leave the pond."
"Then you're a very silly fellow," the frog cried. "I tell you, the thing is not worth troubling yourself about. But, as I like your spirit -- which, for so unimportant a creature, is astonishing -- I will make you an offer. If you want to take a seat on my back, I will carry you up to dry land myself. Then you can judge for yourself what is there, and how you like it. I consider it a foolish experiment, and it will be entirely at your own risk."
"And I accept it with a gratitude that knows no bounds," the excited nymph exclaimed.
"Then climb on my back and cling to me as firmly as you can. For, remember, if you fall off you may be lost when I leave the water."
The nymph obeyed, and the frog swam gently upwards, reaching the bulrushes at the edge of the pond.
"Hold fast," he cried, and then raising his head out of the pond he clambered up the bank and sat on the grass.
"Now, then, here we are," he said. "What do you think of dry land?"
But no one spoke in reply.
"Hello? Gone?" the frog continued. "That's just what I was afraid of. He's floated off my back, stupid fellow. Dear, dear, how unlucky. But it cannot be helped. Perhaps he will make his way to the water's edge soon, and then I can help him out. I will come back later and see."
Away went the frog with an occasional merry leap along the grass at the edge of the pond, glancing every now and then among the bulrushes to see if he could spy the dark figure of the dragonfly nymph.
But the nymph, meanwhile? Ah, so far from having floated off the frog's back through carelessness, he had clung to it with hope, until the moment came when his face began to leave the water. But that same moment sent him shooting back into the pond, panting and struggling for life, and it was several seconds before he could recover himself.
"Horrible!" he cried as soon as he felt a little better. "Beyond this world there is nothing but death. The frog has deceived me. Wherever he goes, it cannot be there."
With these words, the nymph went back to his family and friends at the bottom of the pond, to tell them what he had done and where he had been. The hope, the mystery, the danger, the all-but-deadly result -- and the still unexplained wonder of what happened to the frog when he left the only world they knew. The nymph soon had a host of followers, questioning and chattering at his heels.
That evening the inquisitive nymph was returning from a swim among the water plants when he suddenly encountered, sitting silently on a stone at the bottom of the pond, his friend the green and yellow frog.
"You there!" the nymph cried. "You never left this world at all! And to think I was foolish enough to trust you!"
"You puzzle me by your unpleasant remarks," the frog replied. "However, I forgive you. You are so ignorant that good manners cannot reasonably be expected from you, little fellow. It never struck you, I suppose, to think what my thoughts were when I landed on the grass and discovered you were no longer on my back. Why didn't you sit tightly as I told you?"
"You're being most unfair," the angry nymph exclaimed.
"Not so," the frog said. "It is always the way with you foolish fellows who think they can understand everything. The first difficulty you meet, and you give up."
They were on the point of quarrelling, and would certainly have done so had not the frog, with unusual kindness, asked the nymph to tell his own story.
It was soon told. The frog stared in silence out of his great goggle eyes while the nymph went through the details of his terrible adventure.
"And now," the nymph said, "as it's clear there is nothing beyond this world but death, all your stories of going there must be make-believe. So, if you do leave this world at all, you must go to some other place you are unwilling to tell me about. You have a right to your secret, I admit, but as I have no wish to be tricked by any more travellers' tales, I will bid you a very good evening."
"You will do no such thing," the frog said firmly. "Not until you have listened as carefully to my story as I have done to yours."
Then he told how he had remained by the edge of the pond in the vain hope of seeing the nymph; how he had hopped about in the grass; how he had peeped among the bulrushes. "And at last," he continued, "though I did not see you, I saw a sight that I believe has more interest for you than for any other creature that lives." And there he paused.
"And what was that?" the inquisitive nymph asked, his
interest returning.
"Up the polished green stalk of one of those bulrushes I saw a nymph, just like yourself, slowly climbing until he left the water behind him. He was clinging firmly to the reed, with the sun shining brightly on his body. Considering the fondness you nymphs show for the shady bottom of the pond, I was very surprised. So I continued to watch. Presently your friend's body started to break open."
"What nonsense you talk!" the nymph interrupted rudely.
"Do you want me to tell this story or not?" the frog asked loudly. "What I am saying is the truth."
The nymph drew back slightly. "Most noble frog, I did not mean to insult you. But it seems ..."
"I know what I saw," the frog said firmly. "Your friend's body started to break open. And after many struggles what do you think came out?"
The nymph just shook his head and said nothing. The frog seemed to be talking nonsense, but he was not going to tell him so.
"Very well, I will tell you," the frog continued. "It was one of those magnificent creatures I have often seen floating through the air above this pond. They dazzle my eyes as they pass so quickly. It had become ... a glorious ... dragonfly!"
The nymph stared, filled with a mixture of wonder and disbelief.
"Then he lifted his wings out of the casing," the frog continued, "and although they were shrivelled and damp at first, the wings stretched and expanded in the sunshine until they glistened like fire."
The frog closed his large eyes as though seeing the sight again in his mind.
"After a while I saw the beautiful creature suddenly take flight, and four long wings flashed back the sunshine. I heard the sharp noise with which they struck the air, and I saw his body give out rays of glittering blue and green as he darted along. And away, away he flew over the water in circles that seemed to know no end. And now I have come here to tell you about it."