Anna tried to stand but toppled over. Lines of noisy sheep and goats streamed by on either side. She fought to stand amidst the trampling, but her legs folded like soft leather, her ankles buckling. The hours of riding had numbed her joints. The stream of animals continued. Anna moaned. She heard a shepherd’s piercing whistle. She struggled to rise, fighting gravity and exhaustion. Pushing herself onto her knees, she tore the blisters from her hands. Her movements became increasingly frantic until two arms slipped beneath her own.

“Push with your knees,” the boy whispered as he lifted her from behind. Anna strained to her feet. “Hold on to my shoulder,” he said. Anna held on, but bent as a painful wave of tingles rolled down her legs. “Shake them out,” he urged. She did as he said and, after a few minutes, the tingles began to subside. “Let us walk.”

The first steps were tenuous but then her legs grew in strength. Slowly the two look-alike shepherds caught up with the rest. When she was walking on her own, Anna noticed Solomon, perched high on a crag. He was watching. Everything.

“My name is Peter,” the boy said.

Anna felt the air on her cheeks. A wave of fear rolled through her as she stared him openly in the face. His youthful maleness reminded her of the boys in the village who had chased her. Who had thrown stones and raised sticks.

“Can you not speak?” Peter asked, wondering if the new boy was a half-wit.

Anna lifted her tunic and wrapped her face, tight.

“Do not do that,” he said, tugging at the material. “You will die of the heat. Keep it loose. Understand?”

Anna fought against him.

“Listen to me!” Peter cried.

She pulled away and hid her face in the folds.

“What kind of an idiot are you, brother?” He spat at the ground.

A whistle pierced the air. Peter looked up. “Coming, Solomon!” he shouted and dashed off.

Anna held still, watching him leave.

Had he not called her brother? But he had looked her right in the face!

You are a mixture, she heard her mother say. Her mind raced as she realized the depth of her disguise. She let the tunic drop from her face. The air felt cool against her cheeks. And inviting.

Being a woman in this life is a curse.

On the horizon, a new set of hills, pinkish in color, became visible just beyond the shimmer. As the flocks sauntered forward, and the outline of the hills grew more distinct, Anna considered her mother’s words and began to know their truth.