the meek inheriting the earth if he could still believe it. But Ahcho had his arm and was pulling him toward the donkeys.
The Reverend looked back and saw the midget stagger off into the chaotic scene. No one bothered him, but no one helped him, either. He was a free man, with all the suffering that would entail.
The Reverend could not rush away. His heart had been broken here, and he wished to remember it always. He noticed then that no one was tending to the animals. The camels had dashed off toward the dangerous trail, and the horses had fled into the open countryside.
And the poor, panicked elephant had broken free of the chains that bound its legs and appeared altogether lost. The Reverend watched it trot off, the enormous creature's feet surprisingly dainty. The great ears flapped like sails luffing in the wind. Despite its size, the elephant, too, seemed frighteningly vulnerable as it dashed into the sheets of hail. With small eyes closed against the elements, the animal stumbled in the direction of the cliff.
The Reverend left Ahcho and ran after the creature. He ducked his head deeper into the wolf hide for protection. He wasn't sure what he was going to do, but he couldn't very well stand by as a great beast fell to its death down the precipice. Yet, as the Reverend pulled closer, he was shocked at the elephant's size. From a distance, it had appeared large, but now, standing next to it, he understood that this was one of God's grandest creations. Its scale suggested the expansiveness of the Lord's will. He could make anything He pleased, and this elephant was what pleased Him most.
The Reverend dared not go nearer, for one stomp of the animal's foot would end his life. But the animal had run precariously close to the rocky edge. The Reverend grabbed one of the chains that dragged in the dust and yanked on it hard. The animal stopped in its tracks, turned its head slowly toward the Reverend, and stared directly at him.
The small, dark eyes looked out with what could only be described as infinite sorrow. The creature conveyed a deep weariness with the world and all its follies, especially those wrought by humans who had bestowed upon it nothing but pain. The Reverend felt his heart wilt even more as he recognized and understood the animal's misery.
"Dear Lord," he whispered, dropping his chin to his chest, "why do you abandon us so?"
He set the chain back down upon the ground and stepped away. He was no match for the Lord's cruel whims. If He, in His cruelty, chose to kill one of His finest creations, whether an elephant or a precious child, then who was the Reverend to stop Him? But in one final effort, he called out to the beast, shook his fists in the air, and even stomped his foot. The animal appeared not to hear his weak voice, nor did it seem to care about footfalls that were not powerful enough to shake the ground.
Then, as if to confirm how ineffectual the Reverend truly was at saving even a single soul, a bolt of lightning struck the field of poppies only a hundred paces away, and further mayhem ensued. The crack and boom shattered the air, as if God Himself had shouted down from the heavens. The Reverend instinctively covered his head with his arms and gripped the wolf's fur with trembling fingers. The sound rang magnificently in his ears. A fire began instantly on the spot where the bolt had hit. The wind swirled with smoke and fire and falling ice as the terrifying blast continued to echo all around.
The innocent elephant took fright in this hellish moment. It dashed forward, and as the Reverend watched, the great, grand creature plunged over the cliff. Just like that. The Reverend stared unbelieving at the blank space where the animal had stood. The sleet struck hard, and fire spread, but even with disaster on all sides, there was no cause and no reason for the magnificent beast to have been sacrificed on this day. There was no possible understanding of such a pitiless world. The elephant had simply turned away from life.
And the Lord, the Reverend's good Lord, had done so, too.
Fourteen
O ne mild and moonless evening, as Grace sat by the closed window, she thought she heard bells— high, tinkling bells of the sort camel drivers tied to their beasts to keep them