In the far-off mountains, a shepherd prepared himself for death. He had lived many summers, but now he felt no warmth from the sun and he knew his time had come.
The shepherd explained everything to his son about the sheep, and the new lambs, and the standing corn.
He said nothing, however, about the feud. Of the dishonor that could only be cleansed with blood.
He blessed the boy, and turned his face to the wall.