CHAPTER 7 - OVERCOMING

The Vistula beaches along the entire coast of Balga were composed of a coarse grayish sand, mixed with sparse black veins. Small rounded rocks, washed up by the rivers that flowed into the bay, also blended into the mix. The designs that formed from this composition were beautiful and unusual. Small works of art for people who had a soul sensitive to the beauties of nature, and Marielle was one of them.

Ten days had passed since Pietr's death, and she had not returned to work at the hospital. She was recovering from the shock of the loss, at home, with her family. At that hour of the morning, she was walking aimlessly along the beach watching the sand and fulfilling her ritual contemplative meditation at the edge of the Vistula. Every now and then, she lifted her head to appreciate the immensity of the lagoon. She thought a lot about the tragic death of her fiancé and the powerlessness of human beings in the face of their fate. Destiny, a script written by God, the omnipotent and omnipresent being who writes right by tortuous lines. She had heard this from a very young age from nannies converted to Order Christianity and was now being sifted through these abstract theories by friends and acquaintances.

"Is it really just that? Is the book of our life already written...No! My book has its blank pages, and I will write my story!" She thought, as she listened to the relaxing sound of her feet sinking into the sand.

She didn't want any more esoteric discussions, that all became irrelevant, what now invaded her mind and made her sad, was the kind of feeling that came over her when she thought about Pietr. She was moved by the fact, that it was not an inconsolable sadness. The kind that a lover takes when he loses the love of his life. But rather a brotherly sadness, which takes any human being when he thinks of the death of a young person, who would have a whole life ahead of him. The death of her fiancé had brought her to light. She realized with sadness that she had never loved the boy. It had been swept away by the current of circumstances and convenience. Just like the rocks, washed ashore by the current of the streams.

She walked to the rocks and climbed them to see further into the distance. At that hour there were already a few fishermen's boats marking the horizon in their daily work. Her heart choked with grief and loneliness overflowed, the young woman could not hold back her tears and wept deeply at the edge of the lagoon. The time that passed, she did not know, but when she felt her soul lighter, she decided to return home due to a commitment to her father. She would do anything to get her life back on track, and the usual meeting with her father would be her first step.

Although the late afternoon put the sun perpendicular to the archers' eyes, this did not interfere with the field of vision. Almost a quarter of the arrow penetrated the target that was a few meters away. The father turned to Marielle in amazement at the force and precision of the shot. Jan Bazynski loved his daughter deeply and admired her strength and personality. Since the loss of all her possessions to the Teutonic Knights Order, she had been like a pillar for the family. Working as a nurse, she practically sustained the house. He, as a noble suzerain only knew the craft of dialogue, strategy and governance. Suddenly, with everything torn apart so abruptly and violently, he felt lost. Only what saved him from madness was the great secret he kept well hidden in his heart. His parallel life, if revealed, would no doubt cost him and his family their lives. He was still thinking about this when he was surprised by the sound of the impact of Marielle's second arrow now striking the dummy's heart. He turned to his daughter who smiled contentedly and looked back at him. In her eyes, the bright blue glow showed her father that the girl was recovering, that everything would pass. Jan smiled back. A full, comforting smile.