The sky over the valley of Elah was not blue, but a bruised purple that seemed to press down on the young boy's shoulders. He held the smooth stone in his palm, feeling its unnatural cool against his sweating skin. It was more than a rock; it was a promise made in the quiet of the fields, now called to be kept in the roar of the war camp.

David looked toward the giant, not seeing the iron or the height, but the shadow that had fallen over his people. He remembered the lion and the bear, the way the Spirit had moved like a warm wind when all else was cold. His hand did not tremble. The compass he followed was not made of needle and north, but of faith and word.