Mary’s breathing came in desperate gulps. Streaks of sweat snaked down her face, darkening the birthmark beneath her right eye. The mountain’s sharp stones had sliced open her leather sandals. Underneath, the soles of her feet were as shredded as the leather. Blood smeared her ankles and soaked into the ground. She scanned the horizon. Her vision was blurred. Her silver eyes blinked against the sting of sweat. She could not yet see the band of men and camels, but she knew they were there. She reached behind to tighten the cord holding the goatskin pouch against her back and prayed that Ruth and Tabitha had made their way to the coast undetected.

She stumbled forward until she found a hidden gash cut into an outcropping. The entry was too small for any man. Mary slipped inside. She crouched as if in a womb, remaining quiet for hours, until the day turned into night. Trapped in darkness, she struggled to bear the loneliness in her heart. Seeking comfort, she drew up Anna’s medallion and held it in her palm. She ran her fingertips lightly along its face. Closing her eyes, she thought back to their last hour together. Tears ran in streams down her cheeks.

How was it possible that the woman of infinite green eyes was gone? How could it be that her spirit no longer graced the earth? That her end could have come so soon?

Mary shook her head. It seemed impossible.

Her thoughts then turned to Saul. To his taunts. His threats. His ruthless murder of her friend. She shuddered at the vicious memories.

Before they parted ways, Ruth had told Mary of the magician’s attempt to steal Anna’s identity and warp her purpose for his own profit. Mary cringed to recall the lies and misconceptions he was propagating. And was no doubt continuing to spread …

But what could be done to stop him?

As her thoughts roiled, her anger and despair expanded. Soon the crevice in which she hid started to feel unbearably tight. For hours she suffered in silence until grief and exhaustion drew her into a restless sleep.

When the dawn’s light stretched a hand into the crevice, Mary awoke. Remaining still, she listened, alert for any sign of her pursuers. When she felt certain that Saul’s men and their camels had moved on, she slipped out into the open. Relieved, she stretched the ache from her limbs and glanced cautiously about. She knew it would be wise to keep moving. But she did not know where to go. Ruth had not given her any specific directions. She had only handed her the goatskin pouch and told her to safeguard it with her life. When Mary had asked what she should do, Ruth had said only, “You will know what to do when you know what you are facing.”

But what had she meant?

She knew the manuscript she carried was precious.