Proposal

Zebulun rapped on the gate. Ruth answered.

"Zebulun," she said. "Good to see you."

"It’s good to see you," said Zebulun. "I heard about your father."

"Yes," said Ruth, her eyes downcast. "He died weeks ago."

"I thought to give you time to grieve," said Zebulun, "before I came to visit. I’m sorry I couldn’t save him."

Ruth nodded, her amber eyes sad. "Thank you for easing his pain."

Zebulun nodded and looked off to the horizon. "What will you do now?" he asked.

"I don’t know," she said. "I have no money. I have this house, and my father’s boat, but no man to help me. I suppose I’ll have to marry a fisherman from another town and leave my village."

Zebulun looked at Ruth and asked, "May I offer an alternative?"

Ruth looked up at him.

"Marry me, instead," said Zebulun. "Be my wife. Be my queen. Bear my children."

Ruth lowered her gaze. She held her breath for a moment before she let go, raised her eyes to his, and said, "Yes."

Zebulun smiled softly down at Ruth. "You make me happy. Take your time. Say your goodbyes. Gather your things."

"I don’t have much," said Ruth, "but maybe more than I can carry. You brought horses?"

"No," said Zebulun. "I brought a dragon. He will fly us home."

Ruth looked up at Zebulun, eyes wide. "Fly?"