Then a figure appeared from out of the shadows, a big man with copper skin and long black hair braided down his back, a man who wore army fatigues and combat boots. He walked to where the staff lay and stooped to retrieve it. He brushed the snow from its dark length and held it before him thoughtfully. A solitary warrior and a seeker of truth, he looked out across the ice to where the open water flowed, and then beyond, to where the Word’s battle against a sleeping world’s ignorance and denial still raged.