He sat up and listened for whatever had drawn him from sleep. The caravan camp was utterly quiet, and it was dark, though he thought glimmers of dawn nudged the edges of the eastern hills. He rose from his pallet to look around the wagon, but all was still, the women evidently remaining asleep within its tapestry walls. His eyes swept the camp’s perimeter. The guards on duty strolled calmly yet alert. Even so, something had disturbed him. Jacob was certain of that. Their westward progress had proven much slower than hoped for. A camel had calved far earlier than any of the drovers expected, delivering twins. The calves were pale as a desert sunrise, with dark and liquid eyes. No one save Jacob had objected to remaining encamped for a night and a day so the camel had time to recover. The next morning they set off once more, with the calves lashed on the back of a camel plodding just ahead of their mother. Their plaintive cries and the mother’s lowing response were a source of great humor up and down the line.
