Simon shook his head. “No. Not angels. More like demons. For the words they speak are evil.”

“And what do they look like?” Jesus asked, his imagination conjuring images of snarling beasts.

“Who can tell?” Simon shrugged. “No one has seen them and lived.”

“Then how do you know they exist?” Jesus challenged, detecting the curly scent of superstition.

“To be sure, they exist,” Simon insisted, leaning in and lowering his voice. “They are said to be headless and bloodthirsty. With a special desire for young boys.”

Jesus frowned. “But how can you know this if no one has survived to tell of them?”

Simon threw up his hands. “Do not question what I say!” he said. He looked about for a moment and then whispered, “But I am not surprised to see evidence of them now that we have drawn close to The Narrows.”

Peter winced as if they should not be speaking of such things.

Jesus squinted into the fire. “The Narrows?”

Simon tightened his lips. “We have talked enough. I wish to smoke.” He turned to stand but Jesus grabbed his arm. “No, Simon! You must tell me. What are The Narrows?”

The man lowered his aging body back to the ground. He wrapped a blanket around his shoulders as if the subject were chilling his bones. “The Narrows is the desolate and God-forsaken corridor of land that runs between the plain and the mountains to the north,” he said. “God willing, neither of us will ever see it.” Simon fell silent, but Jesus waited, sensing he had more to say.

Simon shook his head before continuing. “Rahim’s older brother once became separated from the main herd in a dust storm and unknowingly led a small flock of goats up into The Narrows. When the others discovered where he had gone, they searched for him night and day but found nothing. He disappeared without a trace.” Simon shuddered. “No more,” he said, rising to his feet. “I say no more.”

When Simon was gone, Peter and Jesus leaned closer to the flames.

“Do you think what he says is true?” Jesus asked.

Peter shrugged. “I do not know about the demons. But I do get a strange feeling whenever we pass close to The Narrows. As if it harbors some kind of wickedness. But who knows? Maybe it is just the crazy ones they say live there. Those who hide in caves and waste away.”

Saying this, he lifted a cloth from inside his tunic. He spread it open on the ground, revealing a handful of dried figs. “For you,” he said.

Jesus hooted with delight. “Thank you, brother,” he said and knocked an affectionate fist into Peter’s shoulder.

Peter rubbed his arm in mock pain. Then, sensing that he was blushing, he turned to hide his face.