The hushed stillness of their hillside perch was a welcome reprieve. Now only a muted roar behind them, the bustle of crowded Bethlehem fell flat.
Marah leaned back with her hands in the cool grass and gazed down at Josiah. Even in dimmest moonlight, his young features bore uncanny resemblance to his father’s. It was unsettling and comforting at the same time.
Josiah’s chin tilted toward the dark heavens. “Mama,” he said, “Is it true about the fire?”