Lioness: Mahlah's Journey

by Barbara M. Britton

“The mother couldn’t have gone far. We will catch her in a blink.” Mahlah bent her knees and dipped to pick up a waterskin.

  Noah jostled the baby goats and hurried off, her hips swaying among the swarm of stoic wanderers.

  Milcah pointed in the distance. “If I was going to hide, I’d sneak behind those rocks.”

  Beyond the numerous mounds of dirt, a plateau rose from the rolling burlap-colored desert.

  “That formation is a long way off for a nursing mother to wander. Her teats would drag on the ground halfway there.” Mahlah squinted at the bustle of people intent on spying a spooked animal. Nothing caught her eye.

  She grabbed her sister’s arms and released their grip. Milcah slid down to the ground. Leading Milcah from the shuffle of herds and herdsmen, Mahlah knelt to pray.

  “God of Abraham, guide me to our lost goat. May we be fleet of foot and reunited with our sisters soon.”

  “Soon,” Milcah echoed, with an accompanying sigh.

  Mahlah stood and rubbed a hand across her forehead. She stuffed sweat-drenched strands of hair under her head covering. Could the mother have made it to the rocks? She was nowhere in sight.

  Securing the waterskin to her hip, she turned to Milcah. “Race you to the plateau.”

  “Told you.” Milcah raised her eyebrows and ran like a gazelle.

  Mahlah followed her sister. At an all-out sprint, she dodged a few shepherds and headed toward the rocks.

  For the briefest of moments, with her feet pounding the gritty ground and her veil fluttering in the breeze, Mahlah let the angst of the day gust away.

  Milcah’s spindly legs were no match for Mahlah’s thick thighs, strengthened from assisting their father with the tents and waterskins. Passing her sister, she dashed into the thin slice of shade cast by the plateau. She rounded a corner of jagged rock and halted. Her toes dug into the dirt as she pitched forward. The waterskin slipped to her ankles.

  Her goat lay on its side, legs bound. A soft bleat rasped from its mouth.

  A stranger, draped in a long, embellished cloak, stood beside the panicked mother.

  The man’s eyes widened at Mahlah’s arrival.

  Milcah slid a few feet in the loose dirt. She remained still as a carved sculpture while her gaze shifted from Mahlah to the man and then back again. Not a single word escaped from her pressed-thin lips.

  Mahlah’s heart beat a rat-a-tat-tat faster than a joyous tambourine. She balled her fists at this affront. To the goat. To her family. To her leadership.

  Hands on her hips, she shouted, “Let her go. That’s my mother.”

  6

  Rolling her shoulders, Mahlah broadened her chest and added height to her stature. Noah hadn’t lost their goat. This stranger had stolen the mother. But how had he done it among all the herdsmen? Had he targeted them because their shepherd was a woman? Did he know of their mourning? A fiery heat surged through Mahlah’s limbs.

  An ordinary thief in need of food would be dressed in a threadbare tunic or a tattered cloak, but this foreigner wore garments adorned with crimson and purple thread. Woven in the linen were forms resembling bulls. Oils slicked his hair and bared his gold-banded ears. His fingers and neck glistened with more jewels than she and her sisters owned. Why would a man steal a nursing goat when loosening a ring from his finger would fetch him a feast? Every nerve in her body coiled taut.

  “That is my goat.” Mahlah spoke with certainty, foregoing a greeting. This fool had separated her from her family and wasted precious time. Time she did not have to waste. “My newborns are crying to be fed. Release her before my father finds us.”

  She flashed Milcah a side-eye command to let the threat of their father stand.

  The thief puckered his lips and stared at her as if he knew what she had spoken was a falsehood. She had never seen eyes a mix of mustard and amber hues. Truth be told, she had never seen anything like this man. A gust of wind breezed through her bones and sent a chill along her spine.

  God of Abraham, protect us.

  “You are daughters of Jacob. I have seen your tents from the rock.” The thief spoke as though he knew their family. “The land can barely hold your people.”

  A rhythmic thrumming pulsed in Mahlah’s ears. She did not have all afternoon to converse with this stranger. What if he was waiting for a band of men?

  She lowered her stare from his distracting eyes. “I am a daughter of Jacob and my kinsmen are numerous. Untie my goat so its offspring can nurse.”

  “From teats round and red?” His cackle made her want to vomit all over his thick leather sandals.

  Her knife sat heavy upon her hip. She eased her hand closer to her weapon.

  He clasped his bejeweled hands. “You are a lioness. Do you wish to devour me?” He grinned displaying teeth as sharp as her blade.

  Mad. This stranger was mad, and she was creeping into madness deciphering his words and watching her goat be tortured by his ropes.

  Stepping closer to Milcah and the edge of the jutting rock, she positioned herself to protect her sister, or grab her arm, and run. She took a deep breath. Her mouth tasted of days-old manna.

  “Release. My. Goat.”

  The thief watched her, grinning with those talon-sharp teeth. Light sparkled from the rubies sewn onto his cloak. The red gemstones resembled blood seeping from the dark embroidery.

  Milcah shrieked. The long-winded wail nearly burst Mahlah’s eardrum. But she would endure the torture to get back to her sisters and to the safety of her people, sooner rather than later.

  The thief covered his ears and cursed.

  Wind gusted around the rock. Milcah stumbled at its force. Mahlah bent her knees and grabbed hold of her head covering lest it fly into the next city. Dirt and dust swirled in the air. The howl of wind joined her sister’s screams. Mahlah’s eyes stung. She blinked, trying to keep the bandit in sight.

  His cloak fluttered in the wind. More blackened shapes, animal shapes, became visible on his robe. The adorned cloth enveloped his features.

  Then, he vanished.

  Her skin tingled as if bits of sand sunk deep into her pores. Where had he gone?

  Squinting, she whirled around to face a sneak attack. She unsheathed her blade and held it at the ready.

  The thief was nowhere in the stone alcove.

  Toda raba, Adonai.

  As soon as the prayer left her lips, the wind calmed.

  Milcah back-stepped toward the open desert. “Is he gone?”

  “Keep watch while I untie our goat.” Mahlah sheathed her weapon and handed Milcah the waterskin.

  She ran and knelt beside the mother goat and fumbled with the ropes. She flexed her fingers, willing them to become nimble. The faster they returned to their family and left this rock, the better.

  Flinging the rope to the ground, she lifted the mother to her feet.

  “Aren’t you going to take the rope for a lead?” Milcah kicked at the loose coils.

  “No. I don’t want to remember that man or possess his belongings. I’m ill from the way he looked at me.”

  “You? What about the way he looked at me?”

  Mahlah shuddered. What was it about that stranger? He made her want to flee this place and never return. Remember that thief, Lord.

  She cradled their goat in her arms. Poor animal. Its whole body trembled from being restrained.

  “Stay on my heels, sister.”

  As Mahlah hurried from the alcove, warm milk seeped from the frightened mother’s teats and soaked her robe. A few drops from the overflowing udders sprayed Milcah’s arm. Her once weary sister matched Mahlah stride for stride.

  Milcah tapped Mahlah’s arm. “We need to find Noah, so the babes can nurse.”

  “Yes, but we need to hurry.” Mahlah chose an easy gait so she wouldn’t spook the mother and drench herself further. A wide swath of black and speckled livestock trampled the terrain.

  “The tribe of Asher is in sight. Our tribe is farther ahead.”

  Mahlah�
��s arms blazed with an internal fire. Basemath’s scratch marks itched from the pressure of the goat’s belly. How she held the mother with muscles she barely controlled was a miracle.

  As her people followed God’s lead, children scrambled to catch siblings, livestock lumbered under their loads, and an ever-present dust shrouded distant landmarks. The rhythm of sandals slapping hardened ground rumbled louder than a furious thunderstorm.

  “Do you see them?” Milcah’s sandals dragged in the dirt.

  God of Abraham, help me find my sisters.

  Mahlah propelled herself forward. One step. Then another. Then another.

  Sweat pooled upon her upper lip until the crevices in her face became tiny cisterns. Hair clung to her mouth.

  “Look for something familiar,” Mahlah mumbled.

  Her young sister dashed ahead. “I see Noah.”

  A faded scarlet sling hung from their shepherdess. A newborn goat’s head stretched to peer from its side.

  When she glimpsed Tirzah holding court atop their donkey, a pressure built behind her eyes. Her sisters had done what she had asked and stayed together. She lifted her eyes to the heavens. “I sing your praise, Adonai.”

  The load Mahlah carried for being the firstborn of her father lightened as if she had sprouted wings. A reunion was in sight. She giggled with glee as she staggered nearer her sisters.

  Noah corralled a few sheep while her sling cradled a babe. A young man held the other boisterous kid. Mahlah did not recognize the shepherd standing alongside Noah. She also did not recognize the man leading Tirzah’s mount, or the camel carrying their tent. How had these changes come to pass?

  Approaching their shepherdess, Mahlah tipped her disheveled head covering toward the unknown shepherd. “Our family has grown since I left.”

  “You found my mother.” Noah reached for her exhausted goat and petted her neck. “Bless you, Mahlah. The cries of her young are trying my patience and everyone’s in our midst.” Noah turned toward her companion. His gaze adored Noah uninterrupted. “This is Shuni of Asher. He and his brother have kept us on the move.”

  “I see.” Mahlah nodded toward Shuni. “I am grateful.” Was she? Would these brothers expect something for their labors?

  The mother goat wiggled with a fierce determination to escape and feed her young.

  “We must let the mother nurse, and then we must catch our clan.” Mahlah traipsed to a nearby acacia tree, which made a natural barrier to protect her from the progression of her people. The shade of a thick branch cooled the air heated by the mass of bodies and livestock traveling in the same direction.

  Huddled by the trunk, the mother stood and allowed her babies to suck and lap their fill.

  Mahlah’s belly spasmed. More than one thing had gone right today. She had rescued a portion of their herd. God had protected her and Milcah, too. Her sisters heaped praise on Milcah’s notice of the rocky plateau. Mahlah shook the image of that odd thief from her mind.

  “Daughters of Zelophehad.”

  The summons jerked Mahlah into the present and attracted the attention of nearby families.

  Elders from her tribe of Manasseh, Nemuel and Abishua, emerged from behind the ware-laden camels and donkeys of the tribe of Asher. Nemuel grabbed hold of the lead to Hoglah’s newly gotten camel.

  “Whose camel is this?”

  “It belongs to me,” the brother answered, his grip on the rope unyielding.

  Abishua came alongside his fellow leader. “We can take care of these women.”

  “Apparently not,” Shuni’s brother said. “Were you planning on leaving them among foreigners?”

  Mahlah charged forward. She could not let these men believe she was incapable of overseeing her sisters. If only she did not reek of soured milk and her hair did not resemble a bramble bush.

  “Our goat was lost, but now she is found.” Mahlah raised her voice and forced a satisfied smile as if she were welcoming the elders to a feast. “We will keep pace with our clan once the mother has nursed.”

  She nodded to Shuni. “Now that I have returned, I can see to my sisters. May God bless your kindness two-fold.” She bobbed her head toward Shuni’s brother.

  Crossing his arms, Nemuel scowled at her. “Fortunately for you, we are setting up camp.”

  Praise be. Tonight, she would sleep for hours. “The cloud of God has settled then?”

  “If it were that simple, woman.” Nemuel clicked his tongue and turned his attention to the young men. “Sihon, king of the Amorites, has denied us passage and stands ready for battle. We go to war.”

  We? The declaration might as well have been an insult. Zelophehad did not have any sons to send into battle. Daughters could not defend the tribes of Israel.

  7

  As night fell, Mahlah hammered the last tent peg into place. War? Hadn’t her people seen enough of death in their wandering? What would be said of the line of Zelophehad since they had no warrior to send into battle?

  Nemuel and Abishua had treated her like a lost child in front of other men. No respect had been shown to her as the firstborn of her father’s lineage. What was to become of a family that did not have a son who could spill enemy blood? How could they inherit conquered land?

  She brought her mallet down for one last strike.

  Noah trudged closer. The mother goat hobbled at her side. The kids followed their mother’s lead in earnest. “If you hammer that peg any harder it will disappear into the earth.”

  “Better this peg incurs my wrath than others.” Mahlah stood. “Forgive my harshness. I cannot bear to be treated like Nemuel’s servant. Are we not descendants of Joseph, former ruler of all Egypt?”

  “We are.” Noah pressed her lips together and let out a sigh. “I guess this is not a good time for me to ask you to help care for our goats. I can’t ask Jeremiah to mind them. His father made a fuss about me interfering with his tasks. Is it my fault our flocks are fertile?”

  “And you believe Abishua might make this into something?” Mahlah tapped the mallet head into her palm. Why were ordinary concerns weighing on her like millstones?

  “Men trade favors all the time.” Noah tugged her hem from a curious kid’s mouth. “Ask any shepherd and they will tell you I have cared for their sick ewes more than anyone. Our goat limps, and I cannot stay with her and let the sheep wander far.”

  Mahlah scooped one hungry kid. “I will take them into the tent with me.”

  “Really?” Noah bit her lip. “Father would never allow it.”

  “No, he would not. But I do not want another visit from our elders.” Mahlah jiggled her hammer to herd the mother toward the tent flap. “I have already found our goat once today.”

  “Hoglah can herd them inside the tent,” Noah said. “I will return after I check on our herds.”

  “If it were only that easy. Hoglah has grumbled about her responsibilities more than anyone lately. Besides, I don’t believe there is an open eye to be found inside.”

  Noah inspected the mother’s stiff leg. “Life will be easier once we get our land.”

  “It cannot come too soon.”

  Mahlah grasped the goat’s belly and nudged the tent flap with her shoulder. Her sisters, asleep on their mats, did not move a limb to assist her. The mother teetered inside with her young close behind. Mahlah dragged jars and baskets to create a corral for their goats. She unfurled her mat and reinforced the enclosure, so the nesting ground couldn’t be easily breeched.

  “Lord, give us rest.”

  The mother goat bobbed her head as if she agreed with Mahlah’s plea.

  Reaching over the lopsided pen, Mahlah rubbed the mother’s nose. “It is tiring taking care of others, isn’t it? At least, I do not have to feed my sisters. God has seen to that need.”

  In an instant, gasps invaded the peacefulness of the tent. Milcah thrashed. Frantic whines escaped from her lips.

  Rushing to her side, Mahlah smoothed her hair.

  “Shhh. You are safe,” Mahlah
whispered. “You’re dreaming.”

  Milcah’s eyes flew opened. She bolted into a sitting position, breaths fleeing her chest.

  “He’s coming for me.”

  “Who?” Mahlah hugged her sister. Was she dreaming of their father returning from the grave? Or—

  “That thief. He was chasing me.” Milcah’s body trembled as she burrowed into Mahlah’s chest.

  “Do not worry. He was so afraid of us, he fled.” Mahlah wrapped her arms tight around her sister. “We will never see him again. And if we do, our kinsmen will protect us.”

  “He had blood on his feet.” Milcah’s words rumbled into Mahlah’s robe.

  “In your dream?”

  “No, by the rock. I saw blood stains.”

  Mahlah envisioned the craggy alcove, the thief’s sneer, and his obsession with their goat, but her focus had stayed on the man’s chest and arms, lest he lunge in her direction. She had ignored the state of his feet.

  “I didn’t see any blood.” She stroked Milcah’s long, soft hair. “Perhaps he stubbed his toe, or better yet, our goat stepped on it.”

  Even with her comforting words, Milcah’s body stayed stiff. Mahlah drew back and stared into her sister’s face. Milcah’s brown eyes glistened in the lamplight.

  “What does God say about stealing?” Mahlah asked.

  “That we shouldn’t.” Milcah’s voice grew emboldened as she answered.

  “Yes, and God heard our prayers and gave us back our goat. He watched over us, just as he will watch over us tonight.” Mahlah smiled reassuringly. “I’ve brought the goats inside with us, so everyone is safe.”

  Milcah hesitated. She cast a glance at Hoglah and Tirzah’s resting bodies and stared at the mismatched barricade Mahlah had built.

  “Where will you lie?” Milcah asked.

  “In front of the tent flap so no one will join us. But I must lace it first.” Mahlah freed herself from her sister’s embrace. “You must sleep, for I pray this battle is swift, and we are on the move once more. When we get our land, all this marching will be done.”

  Nodding, Milcah settled back down on her mat.

  “I love you, Mahlah.”

  Her sister’s wisp of a confession caused Mahlah’s heart to ache and then blossom. She could not remember the last time she had heard those words.