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Bethlehem shepherds made a loud guttural sound, but David preferred the clear notes of the pipe.
    Bandit jerked upright when he heard the signal. His little black head bobbed with excitement as he loped toward David. With long strides, David ran down to meet the animal.
    “You rascal!” he scolded, bending down to look into the moist brown eyes. “I’ve told you not to wander off like that. We’re in a hurry to get home, and you’re going to make us late.” Bandit nuzzled his fingers, snuffling for a handout. “No food for you. Let that be a lesson. Bad boys go hungry.” David picked up the goat and draped him over his shoulders. “You be still and don’t cause me any more trouble. If you do, I’ll have to tell your mother.”
    Bandit was docile and quiet, his head bouncing slightly as David set out to join the rest of the flock. He used the staff in his left hand to push himself forward. He and Bandit were through the passageway and were heading up the rise to the caravan trail when the sound hit them. It was the roar of an angry bear. His knees locked for the briefest moment. He stumbled, but he kept his balance, a cry stuck in his throat. He doubled his speed, racing to the top of the incline. He felt Bandit’s body tense and heard a terrified little bleat as they neared the predator in front of them.
    1 Psalm 19:1, author’s paraphrase
    2 Psalm 19:2–4, author’s paraphrase

Chapter Three
    As he looked down from the hill, David’s attention was drawn to the glistening pool of blood. He almost let out a cry but stopped when he saw the two dead sheep. Ten or so paces away, a bear loomed over Jahra. He was on the ground, looking up at the beast, scrambling backward, trying to evade its open jaws.
    David dropped Bandit, threw down his staff, and ran at the bear, his sling whipping next to his body. He screamed, drawing the animal’s attention, and without taking time to aim he let the stone fly. As soon as it left the sling, he knew he’d missed the bear’s forehead. The stone struck its shoulder instead.
    The beast threw its head sideways, roaring a challenge. David stopped, fumbling for another stone. He again rushed his swings and this time grazed the bear’s snout. Infuriated, the animal raked Jahra with a huge paw, tossing him into the air.
    Forcing himself to slow down, David fit another stone into his sling before moving toward the animal with measured strides. But the angle was wrong. The bear was turned sideways, its fangs clamped on Jahra’s leg. The third stone struck it sharply on its hip. Bellowing in pain, it dropped Jahra’s limb. With a backward glare and a tossing of its massive head, the beast turned and loped up east toward the rocky hills, favoring its left leg.
    David could have wept in relief.
    He ran to his friend, who was lying on his back, sucking in air through clenched teeth. Dark blood was seeping from the ragged puncture wounds in his right thigh. Something about the blood dripping down Jahra’s leg made David’s insides boil. It released something that shocked him.
    The words exploded from him: “I swear to you I will kill that cursed animal!” he promised. As he spoke, a force that was both wild and hungry took over his body. His hands were heavy with a dense, throbbing power.
    He had a vague memory of uncorking the horn at his waist. Pouring oil on the wounds. Then tearing cloths to wrap Jahra’s leg. He placed the water bag next to Jahra, said something to him, and sped off over the desert terrain. David jumped from boulder to boulder, his limbs gliding in an effortless dance as he ran, jumped, dodged, and clambered. Though his knees and shins stung from a dozen scratches, his sandaled feet were light. Had he not been so furious, it would have been exhilarating.
    When he felt a stitch in his side, he slowed, looking up at the sky, moisture dripping off his hair and into his eyes. He took off his headband and wrung it dry. He was parched and wished momentarily that