The Descent of the Gods

Shepherd

The young lamb had strayed beyond the edge of the forest. It's flock was regrouping farther up the grassy hillside, heeding their young shepherd's whistle. But the young lamb paid no heed, too intent on a luscious patch of grass to notice the predator stalking it - a speckled panther. 

The panther gathered its powerful legs underneath it body to spring upon the unsuspecting lamb. Just then, a strange whining noise accompanied a hurtling projectile that sliced through the trees, and struck the panther full in the face.

The panther whirled back - snarling and looking in vain around it for the source of the sudden attack. The lamb scurried away, bleating in terror at seeing the mighty panther suddenly materialize in front of it.

As the lamb got closer and closer to the emerging from the forest shadows, the panther pursued, unwilling to let it escape, in spite of the mysterious attack. Just as the panther was about to spring again, a sudden humming resulted in another missile crashing into a tree trunk just inches from its head. The panther slid to a stop and watched the lamb bound into the tall grass of the sunny hillside, growling and yet unwilling to pursue any further.

Bleating its terrific brush with death to his fellows, the little lamb returned to the flock. The shepherd gave him a stern look as he deliberately replaced his rock sling at his waist.

Standing on the grassy hilltop near Seth's old altar, Enoch gripped his father's staff with strong hands as his sheep grazed quietly around him. Satisfied that the panther would seek prey elsewhere, he stared out across the panorama before him. Beyond the forested hills, the Euphrates river glistened like a ribbon of gold in the sun. He could just make out the form of the island that was Nod. So small and far away it seemed, and yet ever present in his thoughts and fears.

His staff wasn't smooth, but roughly gouged in several places - a testament to its use in past encounters with creatures that craved lamb flesh. In a world where fierce dragons were said to exist, Enoch had never encountered one of the monsters told about in the stories around the village fire late in the night, but he had had more of his fair share of violent clashes with wild cats and swift reptilians that had stalked his flock before. Not every time did he succeed in protecting the whole flock.

The grass here was rich and the full sun throughout the day encouraged it to grow swiftly. Many times Enoch had nestled into the grass, practically submerging himself in the green waves, and had lain for hours, soaking up the warmth and the feeling of peaceful isolation.

To his surprise, one old sheep was standing on top of Seth's old altar, chewing a mouthful of grass as happy as could be. He had watched his sheep hop onto rocks, logs and various outcroppings many times before, but the altar? This was a first.

"Is this some form of protest, or are you volunteering for tonight's sacrifice?" he queried the animal, who just ignored him. Enoch lifted his staff, gently nudging the sheep until it leaped down from the altar, scampering a few yards away before stopping again to chew, as if nothing had happened.

Later, Enoch led the flock back down the hillside and through the small forest village. Far below the towering forest canopy, several hundred huts were laid out, nestled in and around the massive tree trunks. The huts were made of mud, with thatch roofs, but looked cozy and well looked after. The elderly women pounded grain in groups along the central open space leading through the village, having earned the easier task while the younger women joined their husbands and children to work the small fields nearby in open areas of the forest where the sun peaked through at certain times of the day. It would have been better to plant their fields farther away, where the sun reached all day, but wild animals and other thieves had taught them to make their fields as close together as possible.

Enoch herded his small flock through the village, observing the smiles of his neighbors as they worked and talked together. They might not have much, but they had peace. Here at least, and when they were left alone. He doubted that in Nod he would find the same if he ever had the misfortune to go there.

The sheep obediently rushed into their pen that was roughly but strongly constructed of intertwining branches and vines from the forest. No predator could penetrate it, at least, no ordinary predator and not before Enoch and the whole village would be awakened in time to drive it away. Enoch secured the latch and turned to his own hut.

In front of his hut, a pathetic form met his eyes. Scarred across his arms and face, hunched in his back, and his leg sticking out stiffly at a strange angle from his body, the old man stared blankly forward, rocking gently. Pity filled Enoch's eyes as he gazed at the broken old man. He leaned his staff against the hut, and sat down next to him.

"How are you feeling today, father?" Enoch asked quietly. Jared's eyes never flickered, the swaying did not hesitate. Enoch wasn't surprised or hurt. This was usual. He noticed a woven basket sitting next to their door, tied at the top. He looked inside to find some dried rice cakes that had been lovingly prepared. He smiled. He had an admirer in the village.

"I see that you didn't stop someone from leaving us a gift," he said. "Some watchman you are!" As he reached into the basket to pull out one of the cakes, his father suddenly drew in a quick breath. Enoch looked up to see that Jared's eyes were wide and staring fearfully toward the south. He was shaking. Enoch's heart sank, the rice cakes falling from his fingers, forgotten.

He stood and peered toward the southern entrance to the village. Sure enough, hoofbeats could be faintly heard just before a troop of horsemen rounded the corner in the forest, leading them towards the village.

"Herabites?" Jared rasped out.

"Worse. Cainites."