Noah was the last one out. The last person, anyway. The animals were all still there, behind him in the ark, restless, smelling the fresh air and seeing the full light for the first time in a year. (A whole year! Gone.) There was a lot of work to be done, bringing them out and sending them on their way. They’d need to build corrals and cages out here for some - goats, sheep, camels, rabbits, birds. They’d want to take them along when they set out for home. God would look after the rest. He’d never been up a mountain before. He was a farmer, after all. From up here, it looked like the world went on forever. Maybe this is what God sees. He thought he had a rough idea of where they were and figured that if they set out that way and followed that ridge they should come to the big river, if it was still a river… He felt that old familiar wrench. What would the world be now? What about his house, that he’d built of mud bricks, room by room, with his own hands, and helped by his