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"I wait in a crouch with the javelins, and I can hear my own blood. The night is sharp. I hold my death close; it is my own, and these unsteady corpses will not take it from me."
Marked for sacrifice by her own father, a young woman flees to the hills, knowing her father may appear with his stone blade at any time to claim her - while the unburied dead of her people also hunt her in the low ravines. Guided by the memory of how her mother stood bravely against the dead, Jepthah's daughter begins her long flight in the dark.
The centuries to come will not recall her name. But generations of young women will climb the hills to remember her.