Starvation Point: Pathfinder

CHAPTER 1

The Moroni family always sat in the same pew — third row from the front, left side — the “respectable but not eager” section of the chapel. On this particular Sunday, the chapel smelled like hymn books, lemon cleaner, and something smoky drifting in from the barbeque outside.

Cale sat between his parents, trying to look reverent. Then he looked around.

And immediately wondered if he had walked into the wrong religion.

A Buddhist monk sat cross‑legged on the pew cushion, serene as a housecat. A Hindu priest in bright marigold robes fanned himself with a church program. A Shinto practitioner adjusted her ceremonial sleeves like she was preparing for a tea ceremony. A Jewish rabbi stroked his beard thoughtfully, nodding at the stained glass window as if grading it. A Native American chief sat upright, feathers brushing the shoulders of a black African tribal priest wearing beads and a lion tooth necklace.

And then there was the Muslim woman — Fatima al‑Fihri — fully covered, face veiled, wearing a black niqab, sitting perfectly still, hands folded, as if she had always belonged in a Mormon chapel.

Beside her sat Caliph Muhammad Abduh, tapping a tambourine lightly, as though warming up for a performance.

Cale blinked.

His mother whispered, “Isn’t it wonderful how welcoming our ward is?” His father whispered, “Just smile, son.”