Three days later, Mari was still too weak to rise. Lying on her mat, her eyes stared wide and empty at the ceiling. Anna busied herself at the fire. Earlier that morning, Zahra had met her behind the sycamore and given her a handful of roots and leaves. She then outlined specific instructions for steeping a special tea.

“But you must be certain to prepare this only when your father is away,” the old woman had cautioned.

Anna poured the dark, foul-smelling liquid into a cup through a linen swatch, as Zahra had instructed. She then lifted the cup to her mother’s lips but Mari would not drink.

Outside, Anna could hear the bells ringing on the necks of the donkeys. The people of the village had gathered.

It was time to bury her brother.

“Go be with your father,” Mari mumbled.

“But, Mother, I want—”

“Go!”

Not wanting to upset her, Anna wrapped her mother in blankets and ran outside.

She found her father leading his donkey at the front of the caravan. Lashed to the animal’s back was her brother’s body. Barely the size of a bread loaf, it lay wrapped in cloth strips dusted with spices.

Anna watched the faceless bundle roll from side to side with the donkey’s lurching steps. For the first time, she was glad for the cover of her shawl. Glad that no one could see her glowering. Unlike the others, she felt no grief. She was too furious at her brother for having caused her mother so much pain. And she could not help but wonder if death was the price he had paid for hurting her.

After a short journey, the caravan arrived at the chosen cave. Anna and the others remained outside as her father and a group of men passed the body inside. It was not long before the hollow of the cave reverberated with the sound of wailing.

There was, she had heard Ishmael say, no pain greater than that of a father who must bury his only son.

One day stretched into the next like sluggish strands of molasses. Mari still did not rise. Anna pressed a piece of damp flatbread against her mother’s lips. She did not respond.

“Eat, Mother, please,” Anna begged.

“Where is Yoseph?”

“I do not know. The men came to get him,” Anna said.

Upon hearing this, Mari’s eyes flew open. Wide. She braced her elbows and struggled to stand up. “Find him! Now!” she gasped. “I need him here. Tell him I need him here!”

Anna struggled to hold her mother down. “Lie back, Mother! I will find him. I will bring him,” she said, alarmed by her mother’s look of terror.

When she had gotten Mari resettled, Anna threw a log on the fire and dashed into the night.

The village street was empty. Everyone had gone inside. Thin edges of firelight seeped around doorways and windowsills.