It was odd, he thought. No one had waited for him on the trail before. Always too fast as they ascended the mountainside. Too worried they wouldn’t make it in time for prayer. Rolf didn’t worry that God would miss him. He was the only one left on the mountain most days— he felt that made him easier to find. That he got to speak directly to the spirit as the wind lifted through the verdant hills.
But there she was. Standing with a hand on her hip, as if already annoyed at a man she hadn’t yet met.
“It took you long enough. What were you doing? Drinking from all the streams?”

”Picking the flowers, actually.” He extended the loosely clenched bouquet towards her. “Do you want them?”

”I didn’t think anyone picked the little orange ones. Aren’t they weeds?”

“It’s a flower if you find it beautiful.” He gave a small smile. He studied her face— she had crinkled lines by her eyes. He hoped he’d get to hear the laugh that created them.

”Is this how you charm all the women on the mountain?”

”Usually by this time it’s just the cows. They don’t mind the flowers, but they’d prefer more sweet grass.”

”And you didn’t think to give that to me instead?” She gave a wry grin.

“Didn’t know anyone would be waiting. Shouldn’t you be at the church?”

”Shouldn't you?”

”Don’t think I need to rush for the omniscient. They’ll know where I am.”