Prologue
Shimon
One moment the night sky was black and cold, sprinkled with timeless stars. I whittled awkwardly at a piece of wood in the firelight, wrapped in the warm, comforting scent of the sheep.
The next moment the sky blazed with the brilliance of a hundred suns.
I dropped my knife and threw up my arm to shield my eyes. Startled sheep baaed in their pen behind us. Their little hooves pranced frantically on the stoney ground, stirring up the reek of their urine and dung.
