The Bow of Wood and Hope | Gemini Storybook
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1
The Bow of Wood and Hope – Page 1
"The silence of the desert was a liar. It wasn't empty, but full of the grating sound of sand against rock, the whistle of a merciless wind, and worst of all, the simmering resentment of my own brothers. For days, my bow, the one I had crafted with such care from fine steel, had been broken. Hunger had gnawed at our bellies until it became a beast, turning brother against brother. Laman's words were stones, sharp and heavy. "This is your fault, Nephi," he'd hissed, his face a mask of dust and fury. "You and your foolish visions have led us here to die.""
2
The Bow of Wood and Hope – Page 2
"Even our father, Lehi, a man whose faith had been a mountain, began to crumble. I saw him by the tent flap, his face buried in his hands, murmuring against the unyielding canvas. He mourned not just our hunger, but the bitterness that had poisoned his family. He had led us from Jerusalem, from our home and our riches, following a divine command, and now his reward was the specter of starvation and the sound of his sons' curses."
3
The Bow of Wood and Hope – Page 3
"Their despair was a current, trying to pull me under. But as I looked at the splintered wood of the other bows, I felt not despair, but a quiet fire igniting in my chest. Anger would not feed us. Blame would not quench our thirst. I picked up a straight, strong branch from a Ziph tree we had passed, its wood hard and resilient. I found a flint stone with a sharp edge. Work was the only prayer that felt honest in that moment."
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The Bow of Wood and Hope – Page 4
"My hands, raw and chapped from the sun and sand, began to move with purpose. I shaved the wood, feeling the grain, testing its flex. I remembered the way my father had taught me, the balance required, the patience. The scraping of flint on wood was a steady rhythm against the chorus of complaints from Laman and Lemuel's tent. I twisted fibers from desert plants to fashion a string, my fingers aching with the effort. It was not a bow of steel, but it would be a bow of hope."
5
The Bow of Wood and Hope – Page 5
"With the new bow and a single, straight arrow in hand, I went to my father's tent. He looked up, his eyes hollowed by grief. "Father," I said, my voice steady, "I have made a bow. Where shall I go to find food for us?" I did not ask if we would find food, but where. It was a statement of faith, a small stone cast into a sea of doubt."
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The Bow of Wood and Hope – Page 6
"A change came over my father. The question seemed to rekindle the light in him. He took the Liahona, the brass ball that had guided us, and its pointers stirred. The words that appeared on its surface were faint, but clear. He read them aloud, his voice gaining strength. "Look upon the ball, and see the things which are written." The spindle pointed toward the high mountains. My path was set."
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The Bow of Wood and Hope – Page 7
"I left the camp at dawn, the cold air a shock against my skin. The climb was arduous, my sandals slipping on loose scree. The sun rose, beating down on the red rock, and the world shimmered with heat. I thought of my mother, Sariah, and my brother Sam, their faces thin with hunger. Their faces were the fuel that drove my legs upward, step after painful step."
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The Bow of Wood and Hope – Page 8
"High on a ridge, where the wind blew cool, I saw them. A small herd of wild goats, picking their way across the rocks. My heart hammered against my ribs. I moved slowly, using the boulders for cover, the way I had learned as a boy in the wilderness near Jerusalem. I nocked my arrow, drew the string of plant fiber taut, and held my breath. The world narrowed to the point of my arrow and the unsuspecting animal."
9
The Bow of Wood and Hope – Page 9
"The journey back was harder, burdened as I was with the quarry. But the weight was a joyous one. As I neared the camp, I saw them gathered, their faces turned toward the mountain. Laman and Lemuel stood apart, their arms crossed, expressions unreadable. But my father and my mother, Sariah, ran to meet me, their relief a palpable wave."
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The Bow of Wood and Hope – Page 10
"That night, the smell of roasting meat filled our small camp. Even Laman and Lemuel ate, their hunger overriding their pride. As I watched the firelight dance on their faces, I knew this was only one trial among many to come. But we had been provided for. Not by a bow of steel, but by a bow of wood and a measure of faith. In the heart of the wilderness, we had found not death, but life."
