A rush of energy and adventure overtook me. I scurried down the rocky hillside to the red road, vaguely aware of a dull clanging in my left pocket, metal against metal. I was too enthralled with my journey to reach in and find out what it was.

The longer I walked on the red road the more my knees loosened. They felt stronger than they had in years. My stride became wedded to this course like a locomotive’s wheels to the rails. The drive to reach this road’s end gave me a racer’s gait. I ran, forgetting everything except shortening the distance in front and adding it behind.

As the road entered the oak grove, a smudge of smoke just a hundred feet to the north brought me to a halt. A small group of people talked and laughed around a fire.

I decided at once to hide and study these people from a distance, to gain whatever advantage I could.

Too late. I’d already been spotted by one of them. He bounded my direction. As he came closer, I could see he was a tall man, muscular and handsome with a neatly trimmed copper beard. He wore sandals and an emerald toga, cinched at his slender waist with a braided red cord. Though his dress was like a statesman’s from another era, he somehow appeared modern and fashionable. “Welcome, traveler,” he called in a rich clear voice, smiling broadly.

I wanted to grill him with a dozen questions, starting with, “Where are we?” and “How did I get here?” and “Who are you?” and “Where are you going?” But being a veteran negotiator, I didn’t want to reveal too much about myself and my ignorance.

“Call me Joshua,” he said, extending his arm. I was struck with the strong grip of his big right hand and couldn’t help staring into his eyes. They were morning-glory eyes, radiant blue windows of experience and knowledge and promise, deep-set eyes I could get lost in.

“Rough journey so far?” he asked, still smiling.

Self-consciously, I considered my wounded neck, matted hair, torn and bloodstained shirt, splattered pants, and mud-caked boots. If image was everything, I was nothing.

I shrugged, trying to decide how much to say. “I took a fall.”

“I understand,” Joshua said. He swept his arm toward the others. “We’re preparing a meal, and you’re just in time to eat with us.”

The moment he said it I smelled the rising aroma of baked bread and cooked meat and mouthwatering spices. I was famished.

“Come on over, so everyone can get to know you,” Joshua said.

I looked closer at the circle of his companions around the fire. An old woman started singing off-key, “The morning was bright, the burden light.” She held a walking stick, swaying it in time with her music.

“Eat and rest with us awhile,” Joshua said. “Then we’d love to have you travel with us.”