The trail is not treacherous, nor is it distant from the camp they have made at the foot of the hill. Though inclined, it is not steep, and though the morning has been cool, the sun is beginning to spread its warmth lithely over their bodies. Nonetheless, Cain dreads every step as he follows his father and brother. This is to be Abel’s first time, and his effulgent strides and beaming face grate on Cain. No matter. After this, he will never want to come back. Cain remembers his first time clearly, and has never since acquired the steady ease his father commands of the task.

The hill crests at last and they herd the sheep they have brought under the shade of a grove of fig trees. Perhaps his father was projecting more calm than usual on the herd, for they seem eerily asleep. Even Abel is suddenly quieted by the solemnity. After picking a ewe lamb, his father begins to lead it away from the grove, around a stand of bushes, and into a clearing where a dark flat stone lies monolithically. Deep rumblings begin to emanate from his father’s chest as he offers a mournful chant to The God of the Hills. He runs his hand gently through the animal’s fur, and looks her in the eye, as though the song is addressed to her.

The serenity is shattered in one violent motion as Adam’s arm lances out and strikes the back of the ewe’s head with a stone. The lamb sputters one unnatural bleat and drops silent to the earth. Cain sees Abel’s sharp inhalation and makes an effort to seem unaffected, even though his heart beats wildly in his chest. Adam drags the lamb to the stone and lays her on her back. After removing a second stone from his skin pouch, he uses its sharpened edge to make a quick incision across her throat, which brings an immediate outpouring of blood. Adam empties the lamb of her steaming fluid all over the stone, and then lays her gingerly back onto the grass.

Adam holds the stone out in Cain’s direction. “Come and prepare this one as I have shown you before.”

Cain shudders involuntarily, and then remembering his brother’s presence, makes a brave show of taking the stone and getting down on his knees, straddling the sheep. He places the stone just above the bottom of her ribcage and begins to cut downwards with trembling hands, trying to ignore the glazed eyes of his victim.

“He is about to cut open the belly in order to remove the parts improper for the sacrifice.” Adam says to Abel.

Blood rushes to Cain’s head as he attempts to cut lower. His hands become too sweaty to hold onto the fur, and in a frustrated surge of strength, the stone slips and nicks his left shin. He yells, falls backward, and rolls away from the ewe, tears already filling his eyes. “I can’t do this!” He shouts. He drops the stone to the ground and begins to limp back to the fig grove, too embarrassed to see his father’s reaction.

“Cain! Are you badly hurt?” His father calls.

“Fine. I’m going to look after the herd now.” He is sure Abel is grinning behind his back. Somehow, Cain knows that Abel’s hand would have been steady, and that father would have been proud of him. Proud of Abel, and not ashamed.