Ruth turned to leave the room when something rustled behind them. Both women flinched and prepared to fight. Their eyes fell on a figure hidden within the shadows.

“Show yourself!” Ruth demanded.

The figure whimpered unintelligible sounds.

“Come out now!” Ruth tried again, though she feared what might appear.

The figure slipped into the circle of light cast by Ruth’s torch. Her face was stained with tears, her nose running uncontrollably. Her upper lip, cut and bleeding, trembled with fear.

“Tabitha,” they whispered and took her into their arms. The woman’s body shook as if from cold.

“You are safe now, Sister,” Ruth whispered, wrapping Tabitha within her robes.

Outside the caves, Tabitha and Anna waited on the ridge while Ruth went to see if anything remained of the sheep. Anna hoped with all her heart that the men had not discovered her separate chamber. But when Ruth returned, picking her way carefully along the narrow trail, Anna could tell by her expression that all was lost. Her black sheep, her friend and namesake, was gone.

Little was said among the women as they made their way across the endless plain, as they pushed through rippling mirages and hot gusts that blew sand into their mouths. Only during the heat of the day would they stop to sip water, share figs, and repair their battered sandals.

Anna felt as though her heart were breaking. As they walked, she fought against sickening waves of guilt.

Why had she left her post?

If she had not, surely she would have seen Sister Joan running and been able to warn everyone of the men’s approach.

Was she not to blame for all the loss?

She tried to banish the visions of violence from her mind but could not. When lifting her eyes to scan the horizon, she saw a limp arm lying among the rocks. When warming her hands at the fire, she saw manuscripts smoking among the coals. When turning into the wind, she heard terrifying screams.

The sting of tears burned her cheeks. Though her feet moved her farther away, she felt a longing to return to the caves, to the Tree of Life, and the place where she felt inextricably connected to all Creation. But nothing, she knew, remained.

How could these things have come to pass?

As they traveled farther from their home, skirting the Great Desert, Anna wondered at Ruth’s thoughts. She seemed particularly difficult to read.

Was she angry with Anna?

Did she, too, yearn to return?

Or was she preparing herself for the inevitable?

For, eventually, they would cross out of the plains.

Then what would become of them?