"Yes, you can join us."
Bereshith said it so simply—no hesitation, no weighing of consequence—as though the answer had already been written long before the question was asked.
Levanah froze, as if afraid the words might vanish if she moved.
Lucas nodded soon after, his voice low but firm."Sure. You can join with us."
For a heartbeat, the night was silent.
Then Levanah's eyes welled up, light flooding them like dawn breaking after a long storm. She bowed her head again and again, her voice trembling as gratitude spilled from her lips.
"Thank you… thank you… thank you so much for your kindness…"
Her body betrayed her next.
Grrr.
The sound came from her stomach, loud enough to cut through the solemn moment.
Lucas chuckled softly and reached out, tapping her gently on the head."Let's eat first, okay?" he said. "Then sleep. We've got a long walk ahead tomorrow."
Levanah nodded quickly, wiping her tears, and accepted the food with shaking hands. As she ate, tears continued to fall—mixing with laughter, relief, and disbelief—each whispered thank you sounding like a prayer of its own.
The fire burned low as the night deepened.
Eventually, Bereshith lay down beside his sister, her tiny breaths steady as she slept. Levanah curled near the warmth, exhaustion finally overtaking fear.
Lucas stayed awake.
He stepped away from the fire, far enough that his voice wouldn't wake them, and looked up at the vast, silent sky. The stars stared back—countless, cold, and distant.
"God…" he whispered.
His hands trembled as he clenched them at his sides.
"If You can hear me… please have mercy. I, too, am a sinner. I don't know if I deserve this."
His voice cracked.
"I don't have the strength to fulfill Your will. I'm weak… pathetic. There are better men than me—heroes, saints. So why me?"
The wind answered. The stars remained silent.
Lucas swallowed hard.
"Please… forgive me. Guide me. I don't ask for glory—just mercy."
No voice came.
No sign.
At last, he turned back, lay beside the others, and let exhaustion claim him.
They were not alone.
From beyond the firelight, shadows shifted.
"I think they're all asleep," one man whispered.
Another snorted. "What now?"
A third grinned. "We take them. Sell them."
"What if they wake up while we're tying them?"
The last man chuckled and pulled out a small pouch filled with crushed leaves."Relax. We've got this."
He lit the pouch. Smoke curled upward—sweet, heavy, unnatural.
"With this," he said softly, "they'll sleep nicely."
The pouch was tossed into the fire.
Minutes passed.
Then the men moved in.
Ropes tightened. Hands bound. Belongings seized. The sheep bleated once before being silenced. Even the baby was taken—cradled like cargo.
They were loaded into a caravan under the cover of night.
Morning came.
Lucas woke first.
His head throbbed. His vision swam.
He tried to move—and froze.
His wrists. His ankles.
Bound.
"What the—?!" he gasped, struggling against the ropes.
A man leaned into view, grinning down at him.
"Well look at that," the man sneered. "You're finally awake, little princess."
The man laughed.
And the caravan rolled on toward the east.