Arad, ancient Israel during the reign of King Saul

Eldad winced as Ima wrapped a strip of cloth tightly around his mangled calf muscle.  The door stood open, the morning light falling on the rug where Ima knelt. He shifted on the low stool, the wood grinding against his hip joints. His hands and forearms ached beneath the bandages that swathed them. How could he go anywhere?

Ima smiled at him. “Your wound is bad, but after two days you show little sign of infection. Thank God you were not far from the village when the wolves attacked.”

“Should I wear the cloak?” Eldad gestured at the mound of dirty cloth in the corner. “Wouldn’t the rips help me convince Uncle Rahm that I fought the beasts?”

Ima tied a knot in the bandage and stood, brushing the knees of her long, gray tunic. “You said you fought them. Is not your word enough? You wear bandages on your hands and a leg. What more proof do you need?” She set her hands on her hips and studied him.

He needed something. She didn’t know everything about the attack, but how could he tell her? She still thought of him as a child and had insisted on feeding him bread because of his wounded hands—as if he were an infant. This was his twelfth summer. Eating with bandaged hands would be clumsy, but he could still do it. She hadn’t even allowed him to try.

He cleared his throat. “Yes, I fought them. I told you I did.”

“Then tell him what happened. An honest answer smooths the road, but a lie trips your way.” She picked up the rag and bowl of water she had used to bathe his wounds and set them on the ground outside the door.

Eldad drew a deep breath and held it. Why had he grazed the sheep so far from a fold so late in the day? He should have found a fold and bedded the flock within the walls, but they had wandered farther than he realized, and night would have fallen anyway before they reached one. He settled the flock on a long clear slope as the sun set. The moon would be large enough to light the bare hillside. He should have spotted the wolves from a distance. His sling could have driven them away before they crept too close.

But he had slept. The pack had attacked after darkness fell, rousing him as they charged through the flock. Sheep scattered to the four winds. He yelled and charged a beast that was tearing the throat of an old ewe. The crack of his staff on the snarling wolf’s shoulder shook his arms. The animal yelped and leaped away but turned back and snarled, hackles raised. His heart thudded in his chest.

Pain lanced his calf as another wolf seized his leg from behind and jerked. He fell on his back as the growling animal shook his leg. The beast lunged for his throat. He blocked the jaws with his arm and screamed. The animal’s stench—

“Are you afraid of Rahm?” Ima started toward him.

“What? Oh, no.” He lifted a hand, tensing his body to stop a shudder. “I-I was thinking of the attack.”

She stopped and gave him a gentle smile. “You don’t need to worry about Rahm. He is firm, but he’s a kind man. Remember how he made you laugh when he told stories? He likes you. Tell him what happened.”

“But he’s a warrior. He entrusted the flock to me so he could fight the Philistines with the king.”

“He may be a warrior, but he’s my younger brother.”

She lifted her chin as if being the older sibling guaranteed her brother would do as she wished. Why did Rahm have to return home last night? Eldad shook his head. He could have healed before Rahm returned, had he arrived at the expected time a few weeks from now.

“I have failed.” He slumped.

Ima placed a hand on his shoulder. “It is time.” She took his elbow and lifted.

He sucked a breath and rose to his feet. What would Rahm demand as payment for the sheep?

She handed him his staff, then turned and picked up the shredded tunic. She folded it and draped it over his arm. “Take the tunic. You don’t need it, but you can show it to him if you want.” She stepped through the door, looked back, and pointed at the courtyard door.  “Now, go meet your uncle and account for his sheep.”

Eldad hobbled through the door. He tucked his staff under his arm and leaned on it, each step sharpening the pain in his leg—almost as bad as when the needle pierced his flesh as they sewed his skin closed. He limped through the courtyard door and squinted at the bright sunlight slanting against the white and tan stones of the houses. The stone wall circled the village, broken only by courtyard doors and the road through the gate.

Scattered sheep dung lay on the bare ground, left by another flock. The shepherd had already led them out to graze. Eldad grimaced and shuffled forward. He should be leading his flock out on the hills, not staggering across the village to admit his failure. Twenty-three sheep. He had lost twenty-three sheep.

First had come the sickness, taking five of the lambs. Those didn’t bother him as much. Other shepherds had also lost lambs. Those loses had occurred a month ago. The flock had recovered, and he’d found good grass, but the wolves came. He should have protected the flock.

A dozen sheep carcasses had lain in the morning light. The rest of the flock had scattered, and his wounds prevented him from searching for them. They must be dead by now. He hadn’t even killed a wolf, though one had limped away in the dark. Maybe it died later.

What should he say? Rahm would want to know how the flock was lost. Eldad’s stomach crawled. He had lost every ewe, lamb, and ram that Rahm owned. If he told the truth about bedding the flock in the open and falling asleep, everyone would learn that he had been careless. No one would trust him with their sheep. How could he earn enough to repay Rahm?

He could lie, or at least, hold back some details. What shepherd could face so many wolves without losing sheep? If only Abba could accompany him, but he was on a trip north to trade and visit the tabernacle, and Ima said he must go today.

Eldad glanced back. Ima stood outside the courtyard door with her hands clasped, watching him. At least she hadn’t followed him. Was she right that the truth smoothed the road?

He hobbled up to Rahm’s door, gritted his teeth, and knocked. Would Rahm yell and berate him, even strike him? The latch clacked, and he gulped.

The door creaked open, and Rahm faced him, a muscular man with a brown beard that the light tinged with red. “Eldad, I heard you had been wounded.”

He wobbled and tightened his grip on the staff. Rahm had already knew about the wolves. Had he speculated about the attack? Eldad cleared his throat. “I’ve come to account for your sheep.”

Rahm gestured for him to enter. Eldad limped forward, and the door clicked shut behind him.

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You may think the ending of this story is incomplete, but I left it open so you can imagine whether Eldad tells the whole truth or only part of it. How would you continue the story based on Eldad’s choice? I’ve posted the story on my blog. Comment with the choice you think Eldad made and what will happen next.