The figure on the ground did not move. Nor would it. Peering through the starlight she could make out two desiccated eye sockets staring from beneath a plain white keffiyeh. Swallowing her fear, she turned the hollow body over with her foot. The bones lay in the shape of a young man. He was dressed in an indigo tunic, the color of midnight. At his waist hung the tools of his trade: a slingshot, a goatskin pouch, and a tall, crooked staff. Like Anna, the young man had fallen down the slope. But in his tumble, it seemed, he had landed on his knife. Its bloodless blade was still planted firmly between his ribs. The wind rose again and a whistle emanated from between cracks in the blade’s handle.

Like a bolt of lightning, Anna heard the call. She knelt and stretched a trembling hand toward the body. She slipped the knife from between its bones. With a heart pounding in both sorrow and joy, she closed her eyes. For the first time in her thirty-three years, the torrents that had carved her life ran with a single purpose. Mother Susana’s last words echoed in her ears.

So that you will remember who you are, no matter who you must become.

Finally, Anna understood.

Keeping her eyes closed, she twisted a fistful of hair between her fingers and pulled back her head. As she lifted the blade toward her throat, a steady calm overtook her.

Crouched within the hollow, Ruth had begun to lose hope. She knew the depth of the struggle in Anna’s soul, but had believed that her young friend had the strength to resolve it.

Perhaps, in their weakened state, she and Mother Susana had misjudged Anna’s destiny? Perhaps the shepherd had not imbibed as much of The Way as they had believed? And had no intention of returning?

Ruth shook her head against such thoughts but could not escape them entirely. She looked down at two dried dates, untouched, on the ground behind Tabitha. She had stopped eating. Ruth could feel the despair gaining a greater and greater foothold within her companion’s heart. Against her better judgment, she lit a small fire, hoping to reignite Tabitha’s will.

We must leave here. We must try to survive, said a voice inside her head as the flames licked the air. She felt a pulsing in her knees. Something was asking her to rise. To find a way. Later that night, she said, “Gather yourself, Tabitha, we are leaving.”

Tabitha stayed crouched as if she had not heard her.

Ruth tugged at her sleeve. “We are keepers of The Way,” she said. “We cannot give up hope.”

At the mention of The Way, a glimmer swam through Tabitha’s eyes.

“Let us go,” Ruth said.