High Shepherd Wyatt Hill watched the sunrise from the Holy Hollow Church steps. The early autumn fog clung low to the cobblestones, and the lanterns hanging from the trees burned their last drops of pine-oil before dimming out. Cool mountain air filled his lungs.

Wyatt took a deep breath and threw his arms out wide, hugging all New Haven.

“Praise the LORD for this air in my lungs!” he shouted. “Praise the LORD for one more day on HIS creation!”

His voice boomed across the plaza like a joyful town crier. And then—overcome by delight—he began to dance. The holy vestments swished and rustled around him and his shoes clacked against the cobblestone in a rhythm reminiscent of King David himself.

The cathedral doors creaked open.

Mother Superior Edith stepped out just in time to witness the High Shepherd’s enthusiastic display. Her brows lifted.

“Wyatt Hill,” she sighed, “Is that truly how a High Shepherd should behave?”

He froze mid-step and flashed her a grin—too wide, stretching a hint past what a human smile should allow.

“Mother Superior,” he said proudly, “I’m certain that GOD appreciated King David’s bravado as much as mine.”

“Your true face is showing,” she whispered, tapping his arm. “Remember, this is the Harvest Pilgrimage. Do try not to terrify the children.”

Wyatt’s features softened, the lingering shadow retreating. His posture sank slightly.

“I know. I wouldn’t… I—”

She reached out and hushed him gently.

“We all changed when we built New Haven,” she said. “Ten years ago, I wouldn’t have dreamed that we could raise anything as magnificent as this in an old holler.”

Wyatt managed a normal smile this time. “Thank you, Mother Superior.”

“Call me Edith, Wyatt. I think we can do that,” she said, “Now come along. We have a day’s work ahead. The wagon’s ready, the horses are hitched, and four Watchers are waiting on us.”

She gestured toward the plaza where a stout wooden wagon sat. Two large horses pawed the ground, their shoes clacking the stone impatiently, and four Watchers stood beside it, their armor gleaming in the sun rise.

“Marvelous!” said Wyatt. “Shall we?” He offered his arm to escort.

She gave him a side-eye. “No flirting, Wyatt. You’re wearing the cincture for a reason.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean,” he stammered.

“I see your heart, Wyatt,” she said kindly. “Please guard it.”

His cheeks flushed red as they set off.

The Pilgrimage Begins

New Haven radiated outward from the cathedral like a spiderweb—cobblestone roads forming neat rings around the center, then splitting into dirt paths toward fields and forest.

The harvest pilgrimage consisted of visiting each guild of New Haven and collecting the tithe. Each guild provided ten percent of the income collected from trade, as well as ten percent of the craft, crops, and other goods that the guild master had collected over the year.

As Wyatt and Edith walked the pilgrimage route, children burst from homes—barefoot, lively, eager to greet the High Shepherd and Mother Superior. The adults waved sleepily from porches, smiling at the early commotion. Wyatt returned greetings with booming enthusiasm, Edith with gentle warmth.

Their first stop was the Guild of Smiths on St. Joseph Street. The forge glowed like sunrise through the open doorway, sparks leaping like fireflies. The heat, though not unpleasant, pricked against their skin, and the bellows breathed in large bursts.

Guild Master John emerged, wiping soot from his brow.

“High Shepherd. Mother Superior.” He nodded, signaling to the Watchers to collect the tithe from the nearby stockroom: polished armor pieces and newly forged weapons, along with other metal works from the smiths of the guild.

“All awaiting your blessing, High Shepherd,” John said, handing over a heavy coin pouch.

“Thank you, John,” said Wyatt slipping it into his robes. “How has the work gone? Any blessing or prayers we can make for you?”

They prayed, spoke briefly, and moved on—stopping next at the Guild of Herbalists, where rosemary and mint scented the air, then at the Guild of Hands, where warm loaves cooled in open windows.

Each guild greeted them with reverence; each tithe was collected with gratitude.

Toward the Outskirts

The cobblestone ended, giving way to soft grass and wide, tilled fields. These were where the Guilds of Keepers and Harvesters dwelled, plenty of space for their animals to graze, and wide enough area for farmers to tend their crops. Vineyards, orchards, fields, New Haven had a cornucopia of produce.

The Guild of Keepers greeted them next. Guild Master Aaron presented blemish-free animals and the coin tithe from livestock sales. Mother Superior accounted for the animals and sent one Watcher with a couple of Keepers and their dogs to herd the animals back to the Guild of the Veil, where the Sisters would attend to the them.

It was the Guild of Harvesters, where the pilgrimage met a challenge. Guild Master Theodore stood stiffly outside his guild house, hands clenched.

Wyatt’s steps slowed. Edith cleared her throat—her subtle signal that something was off.

“Good morning, Theodore!” Wyatt called. “Is your tithe prepared?”

Theodore swallowed hard. “Almost. I’ve been waiting for the Talbot family’s portion. They… haven’t submitted anything yet.”

Wyatt blinked. “Ah, the Talbots. Lovely family—just had their sixth child, I believe.”

Edith folded her arms, deep in thought.

“They are new. Only been here a year,” Wyatt murmured.

The two stood in puzzlement, leaving Theodore at a loss for words. He wrung his hands, not really knowing what to do, and was slightly afraid of the consequences for missing the tithe.

Edith finally spoke. “Theodore, you know we mean you no harm, but we must speak to the Talbots. This is a holy matter in obedience.”

Theodore nodded nervously.

“Cabbages!” said Wyatt, “They’re the cabbage tenders. I remember now. We should visit them at once. Watchers! Carry on with your duty. Our idleness has made the Guild Master anxious. Much to do.”

He turned to Guild Master Theodore, “Can we pray with you before we head out?”

At the Talbot Farm

After the watchers picked up the tithe from the Guild of the Harvest, Wyatt and Edith led the wagon towards the Talbot’s plot. There were several Harvesters in New Haven; each had a small plot and tended a couple different vegetables or an orchard. They were also watchers of the boundary. Though the primary Guild of Watchers kept to the disputes in the city area, Harvesters and Keepers were tasked with maintaining the border defense. Many of which used to belong to United States military before relocating to New Haven.

Joseph Talbot was a retired captain of the US Airforce. Like many other veterans and service members, he came to New Haven when politics got overwhelming and everyday life got more complicated. His family was a new arrival—only a year in New Haven and he had had his share of problems adjusting.

He sat slumped on his porch chair, M4 across his lap and dark circles carved deep into his eyes. His wife and children hovered behind him, anxiety exhausting them.

The cabbages were ravaged. Bite marks. Loose dirt. Joseph had been up all night defending against some jackelopes that had been eating his cabbages.

He’d been trying to fight them off and stop them, knowing that he had to pay the tithe. But he also had his growing family to worry about, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to feed them and pay the tithe.

He knew this was one of the many conditions of living in New Haven, and as he fought back sleep that desperately tried to overtake him, he kept watch for any mini-antlered rabbits bounding out of holes and nibbling his remaining cabbages.

“Hello, Joseph!” shouted Wyatt as he shuffled through the tall grass, Edith and the wagon close behind. “It’s that time of year. Tithing time.”

Wyatt huffed as he drew closer to the Talbot farmhouse. Mrs. Talbot and the five children, the oldest no older than nine, came out upon hearing his shouts. Their appearance marked with intensity and sleepless eyes.

“Wyatt,” said Edith. “Let me go on ahead.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing to worry about,” she soothed. “Let me approach first.”

Wyatt spread his arm out to halt the wagon. He watched Mother Superior greet the Talbots, and then he looked at the cabbages. There seemed to be something amiss. The blessing on this field should have produced a magnificent crop, but there was barely anything left.

“Lord…”  whispered Wyatt, kneeling in the tall grass, “Give me your eyes to see.”

The world stilled, and Wyatt’s awareness spread through the farms of New Haven. He felt the scurrying of little paws beneath the soil. The twitch of whiskers. The nervous shuffling of creatures underfoot.

He smiled, his mouth watering. Tenacious varmints to be wandering this close to New Haven. They’ll make a fine Harvest Day stew.

Edith returned.

“Jackelopes,” she said. “The Talbots have been fighting them for weeks. They didn’t say anything because they wanted to prove they could handle it on their own.”

Wyatt’s eyes glowed white. “Yes… I see.”

“You already knew,” Edith pouted.

“The Lord showed me. Your testimony confirmed it. What do you say? Jackelope stew would make a fine addition to the Harvest Day feast.”

“You’re drooling, High Shepherd,” she smirked.

“And we can sell the taxidermies to Bob at Jolly Rogers.”

She covered her mouth and laughed to herself. “The Talbots are awaiting a prayer. The sin of pride has prevented them from participating in the tithes. Joseph was concerned that there would not be enough for his family, and he didn’t want to be a burden on his first year here.”

“Nonsense!” shouted Wyatt. He marched over to the Talbots. They cowered in their doorway.

“Joseph Talbot!” Wyatt boomed. “As a part of New Haven, I command you never hesitate to ask for help.”

Joseph gulped. “I will. Yes, sir. I will ask for help if this happens again.”

“Guild Master Theodore was concerned for you,” said Wyatt, “but it is not his duty to assume you need any assistance if you don’t ask for it.”

“Watchers!” Wyatt turned to the three men. “We’re hunting jackelope! Mother Superior, return to Theodore and notify everyone jackelopes are in season.”

Mother Superior suppressed a laugh as she handed him her handkerchief. “You’re still drooling. I’ll be on my way.”

The watchers hollered as they grabbed their hunting rifles, ready for a little action.

The Hunt & Aftermath

By mid-day, twenty jackelopes lay piled near the wagon, making up the Talbot’s tithe. With the field secure, those who’d came to hunt left to go about their business. Wyatt sat with Joseph on his front porch, eating a cabbage like one eats an apple. The quiet settled heavy between them.

“Thank you, High Shepherd!” Joseph said. “I didn’t want anyone to think I was dead weight. I wanted to pay my tithe on my own, and I thought if I couldn’t handle this, I’d be kicked out.”

Wyatt studied him, then smiled warmly.

“We don’t kick people out. If you didn’t pay the tithe, you would be disciplined, probably just assigned to the mines for a season—but not cast out.”

Joseph crossed himself as Wyatt took another bite of cabbage, his mouth a bit too wide.

“Even Theodore struggled his first year. He was a bit surely, but he came around,” said Wyatt, “The Lord’s mercy is wider than the Appalachian Mountains, and as long as you live here, Joseph, you don’t need to carry your burdens alone.”

Return to Holy Hollow

Wyatt and Edith returned to Holy Hollow just before dusk, tired but satisfied. They had parted ways with the Watchers after dropping off the tithe with the Guild of Ledgers and strolled back to the church as the lanterns ignited. Peaceful calm in autumn air as snow clouds gathered high. The two made note as the feast would be soon and more preparations followed.

They had only opened the cathedral doors when Sister Lauren approached.

“High Shepherd, Mother Superior, the Council of Elders requests your presence immediately. It’s about the Talbots”

Wyatt sighed. Edith muttered, “Of course it is.”

The Council of Elders

They followed Sister Lauren to the Council’s conference room, a side chamber, lit with electric lamps and overhead lights, with a long mahogany table, polished and smooth, and seated around it were twelve elders picked by the church to oversee Holy Hollows affairs and prescribe discipline.

Upon Wyatt’s entrance he felt their disapproval as he took a seat amongst them. Edith stood behind him, hands on his shoulders in hopes of keeping him calm.

Elder Gary Pitkannon, an outspoken member of the council, logical, and knowledgeable man of the faith, spoke first. “High Shepherd, we have just been informed that the Talbot family failed to meet their tithe.”

Wyatt smiled. “Well, you are mistaken. Their tithe was fulfilled. Ten percent of their remaining cabbage was given. Ten percent of their earnings were received. And an offering of twenty jackelopes was accepted.”

Pitkannon stared at him for a moment. “He has failed to meet the cabbage quota.”

“We don’t have a quota, Mr. Pitkannon,” said Wyatt, “We have a tithe. And the cabbages were overtaken by jackelopes, which New Haven has remedied. The problem is solved.

“That’t not the point,” said Elder Miriam Fitsgerald, her voice sharp as a switch. “Tithe disobedience must be met with correction. The punishment is quarry duty.”

“It’s been taken care of.” Wyatt’s jaw tightened, “Miriam, the man fought all night for weeks to keep the food that he could. Do you not see mercy as a viable path here?”

Elder Fitsgerald stood up. “That doesn’t negate the law!”

Wyatt closed his eyes. A familiar voice in the darkness emerged, inviting him to partake in some nostalgia that would never serve the one true GOD. His mind reeled at the temptation to end matters right now. Edith felt the beckoning darkness within him. She squeezed his shoulders, soothing him.

“If you continue to show leniency, High Shepherd, you risk weakening our authority,” said Elder Pitkannon.

He’s speaking like a pharisee, Wyatt… The shadow inside him murmured, We don’t put up with those, Wyatt.

Wyatt took in a deep breath and exhaled. “Holy Spirit, give me the strength to do what is right… and just.”

The elders stared at him, some curious, some terrified.

Wyatt opened his eyes. They glowed bright with the Holy Spirit and the darkness subsided within him. “Our authority is nothing without mercy.”

A tense silence followed.

Edith backed away quickly as Wyatt rose from his seat. He took another deep breath and exhaled calmly. “I trust the Lord’s guidance more than my temper. I will remove myself before I say, or do, anything ungodly.”

He bowed politely and stepped out of the room, and shut the door behind him.

Edith waited one heartbeat.

Then she faced the elders, her countenance shifting from meekness to foreboding. Her skin glistened silver in the lamp light, her eyes an evergreen as she grew taller than the high ceiling of the opulent room.

The elders stood up. If they weren’t terrified before, they were now.

Mother Superior placed her large palm on the mahogany, feeling that elustrious polish, smooth, soft… She raised her arm and split it in half splinters spraying as the elders fell to the floor sobbing.

When she spoke, her voice carried the weight of mountain stone and wind.

“Do not mistake Wyatt’s kindness for weakness.”

The elders recoiled. Elder Pitkannon pushed himself upwards to meet her eyes.

“You sit in those chairs to shepherd the people of New Haven,” she continued, “not to crack whips over their backs. Mercy is not optional. It is most holy.”

Elder Pitkannon bristled. “Mother Superior, your place…”

“My place is to guard this flock, even if that means guarding it from you!” Her eyes bore holes into him. “Know your place!”

The power flickered and the room temperature dipped suddenly, sending shivers down the elder’s spines.

Edith sighed. “Look what you made me do?”

She shrunk back to normal size. “I’ll make sure a new table to brough in here as soon as possible. And I hope none of you forgot to pay your tithe. The Ledgerkeepers will inform me if you have not.”

The End?

Wyatt retreated to his office to brood. He found solace in the wall he had of pictures that the children drew of him. It helped fight the darkness.

He was smiling at one in particular when there was a knock at his door.

“Please, come in,” he said.

Edith slid through the door, a bit disheveled but radiated her usual calm demeanor.

“How bad was it?” Wyatt asked.

She stood next to them. “Handled. I think I put the fear of God back into them.”

Wyatt breathed out a quiet laugh. “Oh, my! You scare me more than the Lord does sometimes, Edith.”

She nudged him with her shoulder. “Good. Someone has to. Oh, and I promised them a new table.”

“What?”