Jesus closed his eyes. He returned to the day his own mother was to give birth. Her bending in agony. Clutching at the doorway. The sudden splash between her legs. It had been a long time since he had let himself remember.

“Please,” he urged. “I want to see her.”

Peter rolled his eyes. He knew his friend to be stubborn when he set his mind to something. “All right then, come along,” he said. “But let us hurry!”

They found the ewe lying on her side, heaving. Thick ringlets of wool rose and fell with her labored breathing. Her long ears drooped from her head in opposite directions. Her back hooves scraped at the air. Her eyes were wide with expectation.

Peter stared in shock at the sudden change in her condition.

“It is tonight,” Jesus said.

Peter moaned. Knowing the time for games was over, he set about gathering sticks to build a fire. Together the two boys sat to drink tea and wait.

While the steam billowed from their cups, Peter’s gaze shifted frequently to Jesus. He noticed how the light was dusting his copper skin with gold.

“How did you know she would be giving birth?” he asked, impressed by his friend’s judgment.

Jesus shrugged. “I am not sure. Just an intuition, I guess.” He considered telling Peter about watching his mother. Then decided against it. Instead, he said, “My family kept goats. Maybe I learned something from watching them.”

Peter nodded. Jesus rarely spoke of his family or his childhood. But, since Peter did not wish to speak further of his, he never prodded.

After a moment, Peter let out a snort. “You know, if I did not like you so much, I would probably be jealous!” he confessed.

“Jealous? Of what?” Jesus asked, bewildered.

Peter tossed a stone. “Because in just two years you have already become a better shepherd than I will ever be,” he said. Wagging his head, he added, “It took me at least two years to learn the signals and calls. Not to mention gaining the animals’ trust. But, for whatever reason, you seem to come about such things naturally. Even crusty old Akbar has admitted to your skill!”

Jesus sipped his tea and shrugged. He knew his friend’s words were true, though he was unsure from where his gift arose. Still, he did not wish to rub salt in Peter’s wound. Besides, in observing Solomon and the other shepherds at work he realized there was a great deal left for him to learn.

The ewe thrashed and kicked the air.

Watching the delivery unfold, the boys drifted into separate thoughts. Soon the sun had sunk halfway below the horizon, frosting the landscape with magical light.

When the birth did not advance, Peter grew agitated. “I knew I should have hurried the flock along,” he said.

“For what purpose?” Jesus asked.

“So that we would have made camp before she started with … this.”