The Shepherd
Benjamin's jaw ached. It did that a lot now. Especially since the weather had turned. He pressed the tip of his tongue into the socket where his eye tooth was missing. It pushed out the scar on the lip above, beginning another dull pain.
Benjamin felt a lot older than his 20 years. He shifted to his side to give his hip a rest. David played his harp to keep his mind off this hind side, he supposed. The tumbling hills below Bethlehem were certainly no more comfortable in David's day.
It was the last watch and the darkest of the night. Benjamin's eyes had fully adjusted to the unpolluted darkness. He could see the sheep and their starlight shadows. Some stirred but most were still. The strange convergence of stars above seemed to be growing in intensity and continued to disturb the shepherd. For weeks the strange and undoubtedly bad omen had assembled itself in the sky. And now? The greens, blues and reds were converging in colorless light, almost like the startling flash of midday sunlight off the tops of rolling waves. He'd seen those once up in Galilee when a storm from Jordan stirred the sea from afar. The waters had seemed almost alive and certain of themselves, driving mystery, light and darkness of depth his way. Why did this strange new star remind him of that? Benjamin looked back down to his group's flock.
He caught sight of the one lamb he felt most responsible for. The one he dreaded most. He drifted away to the memories of one terrible day. The one to which his jaw and lip gave testament...
*****
