About This Book
A Rose for Ecclesiastes Up into the nountains now. Far. The sky was a bucket of ice in which no moons floated. The going became steeper, and the little donkey protested. I whipped him withthe throttle and went on. Up. Up. I spotted a green, unwinking star, and felt a lump in my throat. The encased rose beat against my chest like an extra heart. The donkey brayed, long and loudly, then began to cough.. I lashed him some more and he died. I threw the emergency brake on and got out. I began to walk. So cold, so cold it grows. Up here. At night? Why? Why did she do it? Why flee the campfire when night comes on? And I was up, down, around, and through every chasm, gorge, and pass, with my long-legged strides and an ease of movement never known on Earth. Barley two days remain, my love, and though has forsaken me. Why? I crawled under overhangs. I leaped over ridges. I scraped my knees, an elboe. I heard my jacket tear. No answer, Malann? Dou you really hate your people this much? Then I'll try someone else. Vishnu, you're the Preserver. Preserve her, please! Let me find her. Jehovah? Adonis? Osiris? Thammuz? Manitou? Legba? Where is she? I ranged far and high, and I slipped. Stones ground underfoot and I dangled over an edge. My fingers so cold. It was hard to grip the rock. I looked down. Twelve feet or so. I let go and dropped, landed rolling. Then I heard her scream.
