What I saw? What did that mean? But it didn’t matter. What mattered was, I was up in a tree with seven armed men apparently seaching for me below. I shifted slightly on my perch and wrapped my fingers around a branch above me, preparing to stand. As I rose, the smooth-voiced man spoke again.
“Don’t worry, we won’t hurt you!” He smiled, showing a mouth full of straight, white teeth. Now that I looked, he was quite good looking. Clean cut, dark haired and fair skinned. The rest of his crew was a different matter…the man on his right looked excepionally scary. His face sported a ugly, half healed scar, running right between his nose and mouth like some kind of twisted mustache. He shifted his weight, constantly looking around. His job seemed to be to protect Mr. Clean Cut.
I moved my foot up to another branch, praying frantically that it wouldn’t make a sound. But apparently I’m not in very well with God, because it did. And Mr. Clean Cut looked up.