The smaller spirit peeled back the warm linen that covered him. Jesus saw that his broken leg had been straightened and neatly bound. The jinn lifted a damp cloth from a bowl. It rubbed it between Jesus’s thighs. When the spirit removed the cloth, it was soaked with blood! Jesus’s eyes flew open. The blood had not issued from his injury. So where had it come from? He felt panic rising.

What had they done? Where had they cut him?

He struggled again to free himself, but was weak from loss of blood. Dizziness pulled him down.

“Calm yourself,” the larger jinn said in its high-pitched voice. The smaller jinn continued to draw blood from the invisible wound. Jesus felt a tremble in his thighs and a momentary shame, sensing that he was wetting himself.

“Do you not know what is happening to you?” the first jinn asked.

Jesus said nothing. He was drawing inward, preparing to fight against death.

“Do you not know about the monthly renewal?” the spirit asked.

Jesus stared blankly.

“So,” the spirit said, nodding, “you do not.”

Jesus felt his head lighten.

“You are tired,” the jinn said. “We can speak more of these things later. But I promise you this, your days of living as a shepherd are over.”

Jesus felt a wail building inside his body.

No! It cannot be true. It cannot. Solomon! Save me!

Another jinn laid its hand across his eyes and said, “I will give you rest.” In an instant, Jesus fell again into darkness, a desperate cry caught in his throat.

Two of those who dwelled in the caves stepped outside to look up at the stars. One had a slight stoop in its shoulders and appeared to be the elder of the two. In its hand it held the medallion that Jesus had worn around his neck. “Travel to the outer perimeter,” it told the other. “Find out where the shepherd came from. We must be absolutely certain that she did not follow Samara here.”

The taller one nodded. “I will do as you say,” it said in a coarse voice and left to gather supplies for the journey.

Several days later, the cave dweller with the coarse voice returned. Upon its entry, it lifted a bucket of water and drank greedily. Its travel through The Narrows had been difficult. Its cloak was torn and smelled of sheep urine. It found its elder and stood before it.

“I located the source of the shepherd,” it said. “They did not follow Samara and have no intention of attacking.”

The elder sighed with relief.

“But there is heavy news still,” it said, lowering its gravelly voice.

The elder lifted its fallen shoulders as if to brace for what it would hear. “Tell me what you know.”