She began talking to him as if he were a little boy, unaware of his fate.

"Rest well, little one." She said, softly.

"You do not know what awaits you."

Unfortunately, Mike had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen. He couldn't sleep. He was concerned for the well being of his friend. He walked quietly into the tent, and sat by Miracle's side.

"What's wrong, Michael?" Miracle asked.

"I can't sleep." He replied. "I'm worried about Peter."

"You aren't the only one."

Mike stared at Miracle's face. It looked confused and weary. 'This must be serious,' he thought to himself. 'What will happen to my friend?'

"Miracle…"

"Yes?"

"Will Peter live? Survive?"

"I cannot answer that."

"Why not?"

Miracle leaned down and kissed Peter's lips.

"It is up to him."

Mike and Miracle talked the rest of the night. Soon, they were surprised by the quick dawn. Miracle began to cry. Peter awoke, and Miracle quickly wiped her tears away.

"Miracle? Mike? Something wrong?"

"It's time, Peter." Miracle sighed, "It's time for the tests to begin. Soon the drums will sound. And, you will be beckoned to the council."

No sooner had Miracle spoken these words that they heard the beat of the drum. The cries of her people. Yes, it was time for Peter to prove to Miracle's people and the world that he and her were destined for each other.

Peter emerged from the hut and the men of the village hit him like a tidal wave. They were not the same nice villagers he had known just hours before. Now, they were hostile. It seemed as if they wanted him dead. This pierced fear into Peter's heart. 'No! he thought, 'I must be strong. I have got to get through this. For---the guys. For…Miracle.'

The men of the village took him to the head totem pole. Soon Miracle's father came out with his hatchet. She could see the fear in Peter's eyes. She couldn't bear it. She ran back into the hut. 'I will die if I watch him.' She thought. 'Please Peter, be strong.'

The guys were being kept under close watch by a few of the village men. They stood back in horror as the medicine man ripped off Peter's clothing with his hatchet. There, Peter was left, bare and exposed. Two lines had formed on each side of the path out of the village. Miracle's father stared Peter with cold eyes.

"Before you Peter, is the gauntlet. My brothers are armed with sticks and sharpened stones. You must use great courage to make it to the end. If you fail, you will die. May the spirits guide you."

He left Peter and took his place at the council table, looking on. The drums started to tap. Tap, tap, tap. Faster, and faster, and faster. Peter felt a strange presence build up inside of him. He felt like running away from the village. 'No!' he thought. 'Get it together captain. Run!' Instantly Peter's legs responded. He ran with the spirit of anger and determination. He felt the whips of the sticks and the cuts of the stones. This slowed him down. But, he would not stop. All that ran through his mind was to run. He was almost at the end of the gauntlet. But, his feet stopped. A soft thump met with the ground. Peter felt the weight of 20 men on top of him. He felt blood run down his cheek. 'It's over.' He thought. 'Forgive me Miracle. Forgive me.'

Michael stared at the mob that was surrounding Peter. He could no longer see his friend. Only faces of red and strands of black hair.

"He's not getting up, he's NOT getting up!" He yelled to his friends.

"What can we do?" David questioned.

Mike did not respond. He jumped up from where he was sitting, and ran toward the mob. He yelled over all of the shrieking Indians.

"PETER!" he cried, "GET UP! YOU CAN DO IT PETER! FIGHT IT!"

Peter saw the blood running on the dirt. Again, his friend was right. He didn't want to die like this. Not on the dirt. With every bit of strength he could muster he pushed himself up, throwing his fists left and right to get the men away from him. When he made a clearing, he ran as fast as the wind would carry him. He couldn't feel the pain any longer. He knew he would make it. He staggered over to Michael, who had run over to the end of the gauntlet. The solid tap of the drums ceased. Miracle opened her eyes at the silence. A tear streaked down her face. She had sat there in fear, with her eyes closed. The silence of the drums seemed to last forever. There she was, frozen, waiting to hear a cheer, or a battle cry. Triumph, or death.

Her heart nearly exploded when she heard the cheers of her people. 'He is ALIVE!' she thought. Quickly she ran out of her hut. She met David on the path.

"Where is he?" she asked.

"He is over there, luv, " David replied, "And, he is in pain."

Miracle took off running toward Peter. "Thank you!" she called out.

The group of men cleared as Miracle approached. All Miracle could see was a man, draped in blood. Tears filled her eyes.

"Michael, is he alright?" she questioned.

"He is breathing. Come, let's take him to your hut."

Michael and a few men from the village gently carried Peter to Miracle's hut. They laid him down on the bed he had slept in before this terrible beating. Miracle brought him cool, clear water from the river. He barely opened his mouth to take the drink. Cuts were all over his bare, exposed body. One of the men of the tribe handed Miracle Peter's now torn clothing. In the tribe's tongue she thanked him and told him to leave.

"We need to make him a medicine pack." Miracle said, staring at all of her love's wounds.

"Do you know how?" Michael questioned.

"I know a little," she replied, "But, I am sure that it is already being taken care of."

"How?"

Soon, Miracle's father approached the tent with packs of boiled healing herbs and plants from the woods. Miracle took them and placed them on Peter's wounds, then bound them tightly with cloth.

"Take care of him Michael," she said, "I will mend his clothes now. Wrap him up in a blanket. I will return when I am done."

Michael did as he was told and carefully placed a blanket over Peter's body.

"Sleep well my friend." He said, letting out a heavy sigh.

"Sleep well."

Miracle worked quickly on stitching up Peter's clothes. 'The girls of the village will soon come to look at him, and I want him to be clothed when they do.' She said sternly to herself, and then let out a timid laugh. Her father came up to her.

"Miracle, why are you mending his clothes?"

"Because father, he needs them."

"No, he does not."

Miracle stared at her father with a puzzled look.

Her father sighed as he placed his arm around her.

"My daughter, the second test will have to begin at the next dawn. I fear it will be harder to bear than the one before."

"Why father?"

"Miracle, he must go into the deepest part of the woods. Alone. And, he must kill a great beast to prove his worth to the Great Spirit, and to the council. He will need the clothing of our people for this task, for he must follow our ways if he wants to survive."

Once again, tears streamed down Miracle's face. She thought of her darling Peter, warm and protected in the hut, and how tomorrow he would have to go out into the cold world-again.

"I understand father," she said softly.

"Go to him, my daughter. I will have a woman of the tribe mend his clothing. Take these to him."

He handed Miracle a buckskin coat and pants, and moccasins.

"Yes father." She said.

"When the drums sound… It is time for him to leave."

Miracle started back to the hut in tears. She met Micky on the way.

"What's wrong Miracle?" he asked.

"Peter's second test will begin soon." She replied, staring at the setting sun.

Micky stared into Miracle's eyes with a stern face.

"I cannot understand why Peter would want to do the wishes of YOUR people!"

He left her and ran to the hut.

Miracle hit the ground, with tears flowing.

"I cannot help it! I can't, I can't! It's not my decision, it's not my decision!" she wailed loudly to the moonlit sky above her. It was the only one that would listen.

Again, Peter stood in front of the council. The feel of the leather felt strange against his body. He may have looked stern in front of them, but he was trembling with fear inside. The council had given him a knife, a bow, and 4 arrows. A group of men was to lead him to the deep part of the forest. There, he would have to stay the night, and kill a great beast, and return with it by sunrise of the next day. He looked back to see Michael, David, and Micky staring at him with eyes of compassion and anger. Miracle wasn't there. She was in her hut, solemnly praying for his safety. Peter's mind was engulfed with emotions. He felt trapped in his own mind, trapped with fear. Suddenly, he heard the council drums. He was being dragged by men of the tribe out of the village, and out into the deep part of the forest. He could hear the voices of his friends. Things like 'Good luck Pete!' 'Godspeed!' He even thought he heard a girl's voice. 'Be brave little one.' Was it his mother? Or was it Miracle?

Peter looked around. All he could see was green around him. And blue sky above him. He had been in the deep part of the forest 3 hours now, and was already going into despair. Those 3 hours had been spent contemplating how he would get out of this mess. All of his army training was meaningless out here. There were no men with muskets coming after him. Instead, there was a greater power. His own mind.

More hours passed. But, he could not keep track of time anymore. He was lost deep in thought. His body, however, had made a fire and even found some berries. It had operated without him really being there. There he lay, motionless, staring at the sky. Watching stars twinkle. His body pulled a blanket around him. His mind prayed that he would survive.

He didn't know how he had gotten it. All he remembered was seeing something moving in the bushes. Again, his body had operated without him, by taking out an arrow, and shooting this great buck. Now, he was taking his knife and dressing it. His mind and body were reunited, because his prayer was answered. He received victory, and now his mind and body didn't have to worry, and could act as one. Relieved, and tired, Peter slept, dreaming of Miracle. 'I haven't let you down,' he thought, 'and I will keep you forever.'

The drums awakened her. Quickly she jumped out of her bed, and got dressed. The fact that she even slept at all was remarkable. Half the night, she had thought of Peter, alone in the woods, with the great responsibility on his shoulders. 'Something must have soothed me,' she thought. 'I wonder what it was…'

Great cheers filled the village. She could her Michael's laughter. She ran to him.

"Michael!" she called. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong, dear," he replied joyfully. "Look!"

She saw Peter's smiling face, a large deer on his back. He was being congratulated by all in the village. She made her way towards him. Their eyes met. Tears streamed down their faces. She ran and jumped up in his arms. Their eyes closed, and for one moment in time, only they existed.

"My boy, you have done it!" Miracle's father exclaimed.

He placed his arms around his daughter and Peter, and embraced them.

"Now, the ceremony can take place."

Miracle and Peter were filled with happiness, and the people of the village cheered.

"Wait, wait!" Peter said.

"What about the wisdom test?"

"Ah, my son, that test was passed, the moment you stepped foot in the village."

"What do you mean?"

"You followed your heart. That takes the greatest amount of wisdom of all."

Peter smiled graciously at the medicine man, and then kissed Miracle gently.

"Thank you, my Peter." She said. "For everything."

The ceremony was a joyous one. Michael, David, and Micky watched with joy, as Peter was welcomed into the tribe. He was given a beautiful headband, once worn by the greatest warrior of the tribe. He smoked from the peace pipe. And, Miracle's dream came true. They were married. 'My destiny-is fulfilled.' Miracle said to herself. 'Now, I am whole.'

But, not all was happy. Micky, still with an obligation to the English government, had to take Peter on trial. One week after Miracle and Peter shared their happiness; they had to face the despair. Michael and David begged Micky not to do this, because Peter was happy. Even on the day of the trial they persisted.

"I'm sorry, I have to do this." Micky said, cleaning his musket.

Peter stood over to the side of him, with Miracle, hoping that his friend would see the light.

Michael became stern as he watched Micky pat his gun.

"George Dolenz!" he said. "You are doing a very foolish thing. Peter is innocent, and YOU know it!"

"Look Michael, I can-"

His voice was overpowered by a gunshot. They all looked over. Peter staggered around, then fell into Miracle's arms.

"You shot him!" Mike said.

"I-I didn't mean to. It misfired."

The three men held their heads down, as Miracle's tears hit the soft brown ground.