"Up you go."
Lucas' voice was calm but firm as he shook the edge of the blanket inside the wagon.
Bereshith stirred first, hair messy, eyes barely open."Huh…?" he murmured. "Where are we…?"
Levanah heard Bereshith voice and groaned beside him, rubbing her face."Huh… is this a wagon…?"
Lucas smiled faintly."Wake up, sleepy heads. It's morning," he said. "We need to catch something to eat."
That did it.
Bereshith sat upright at once, suddenly alert. His first instinct was not hunger, nor curiosity—but worry. He turned quickly, searching the wagon.
"Yareach—"
"She's fine," Lucas said gently before the child could panic. "Still asleep. Peaceful as the sunrise."
Bereshith exhaled in relief and nodded. He carefully tucked the cloth back around his sister before climbing down from the wagon.
Levanah followed, still half-asleep, nearly tripping on the step.
Outside, the world greeted them quietly.
A river flowed nearby, its surface catching the early light. The air was cool, yet touched with warmth—the kind of breeze that carried both promise and rest. It brushed against their skin, waking muscles and thoughts alike.
Bereshith stretched his arms high. Levanah bent backward with a small groan, then laughed softly at herself.
Lucas was already at work.
He stood near the sheep, calm and practiced, milking gently into a waterskin. The animal bleated once, then settled.
"Mister," Bereshith asked, walking closer, "how are we going to catch breakfast?"
Lucas tied off the waterskin and slung it over his shoulder."Fish," he said simply. "River's clear. Plenty of them."
Bereshith tilted his head. "But… how?"
Lucas glanced at the ground, then at a cluster of trees."Grab a stick. Make a spear. Watch the water. Be patient."
Levanah's eyes lit up with sudden understanding.
"Oh!" she said, already moving. "I know—"
She hurried toward the trees, scanning the ground until she found a long, sturdy branch. She tested its weight, nodded in approval, and began sharpening one end against a stone with focused determination.
Lucas raised an eyebrow."Looks like you've done this before."
Levanah shrugged, a little embarrassed."When you're hungry long enough… you learn."
Bereshith picked up a thinner stick and examined it thoughtfully. He tried sharpening it, but the tip came out uneven.
Lucas crouched beside him.
"Here," he said, guiding Bereshith's hands. "Slow. Let the stone do the work."
Bereshith watched closely, mimicking the motion."Like this?"
"That's it."
Soon, the three of them stood by the riverbank—Lucas watching from behind while Bereshith and Levanah waded carefully into the shallows.
The water was cold, making Levanah gasp quietly.
"Don't rush," Lucas said. "Fish don't fear noise. They fear sudden movement."
They waited.
Moments passed.
Bereshith's grip tightened as he spotted a shadow moving beneath the surface. His breath slowed. The world narrowed.
Then—
He struck.
The spear plunged into the water, splashing loudly.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then Bereshith pulled up the stick—thrashing, silver, alive.
"I—I got one!" he shouted, eyes wide.
Levanah laughed in disbelief."You actually did it!"
Lucas smiled—not wide, but real."Well done."
Encouraged, Levanah focused again. Her first attempt missed. The second too. On the third, she struck true.
"Yes!" she exclaimed, holding up her catch proudly. "Look!"
Within a short while, they had enough fish for all of them.
Lucas took over from there—cleaning the fish with efficient hands, starting a small fire, roasting them carefully. The smell filled the air, rich and grounding.
As they ate, Lucas poured fresh milk into a smaller container and carried it back to the wagon.
Yareach stirred as he gently lifted her.
"There you go," Lucas whispered softly, supporting her head. "Morning."
She made a small sound, eyes barely opening, and drank.
Bereshith watched quietly from a distance.
Something in his chest felt… warm.
When Lucas returned, they finished eating in comfortable silence.
Levanah licked her fingers, then paused."…Mister Lucas?"
"Hm?"
"You're… really good at this," she said carefully. "Traveling. Protecting. Taking care of people."
Lucas didn't answer right away.
Finally, he said, "I wasn't always."
Bereshith looked at him, curious—but didn't press.
After breakfast, they packed up. Lucas checked the harness, secured the supplies, the sheep, and made sure the wagon was ready.
Before climbing up, he paused and looked east.
The road stretched forward—unknown, dangerous, unavoidable.
Once, it would have filled him with dread.
Now?
He felt steady.
Bereshith climbed into the wagon first, settling beside his sister. Levanah followed, glancing around as if memorizing the moment.
Lucas took the reins.
"Ready?" he asked.
Bereshith nodded."Yes."
Levanah smiled."Yes."
The horses moved.
The wagon rolled forward.
And together—child, beggar, runaway, and baby—they went east.
Unafraid.