Divine Flight

It was an ordinary day when suddenly the hammer fell silent in Yosefi's hand. The sound that replaced it was the sound of the end of their peace: the hard, rhythmic tramp of nailed sandals on packed earth and the jingle of centurion armor from the road outside. He didn't need to look out the window of his Nasrat workshop to know. The entire village had been on edge for days, whispering about troop movements and a decree from Quirinius, the Governor of Syria. A census. A count of every soul in the province. Then the decree came.