Their white knuckles, with fingers curled around stones, glared at her through the dusty air. The men cursed, "Adulteress!" while the women huddled and gossiped on the fringes of the crowd. Dirty children cackled as they orbited the mob.

She turned. The crowd ebbed and shuddered as one, waiting for someone to cast the first stone. She fell to her knees. Dust mixed with tears and turned to mud on her face.

"Please," she clasped her hands together. "Spare me, I beg you."

"The law says you must be stoned," a man with a long gray beard said from her left.

"You're pregnant and unmarried," a younger man on her right said as he lifted a stone-laden fist above his head. "You've humiliated your future husband! Who is the man you seduced into adultery?"

They pumped their fists at her, their blue and white robes flowing in the wind and yellow teeth gnashing through black and gray beards. Black hair tumbled out of her shawl as fear turned her stomach sour. She looked up through the amber cloud that surrounded them to the sky and whimpered, "Have mercy..."

A stone smashed against her cheek and crushed her jaw. She cried out and curled over with her face in her hands.

They continued, "Who is the father? Tell us, whore!"

She opened her eyes within the shade of her bosom. Dust clogged her mouth and lungs. She spat globs of bloody mucus and tooth chips to the ground. Poorly aimed stones thud around her. She trembled under the pressure to provide an answer, one that wouldn't cost her her life.

But they promised each other she wouldn't tell.

Another stone crushed a rib. She screamed so hard her voice cracked and shattered among the dozens around her. She looked up, curled on the ground, and searched the mob for her angel's face. Nowhere. A stone splashed against the ground and kicked dirt into her eyes. She dug the debris from her eyes and stood with her knees set to buckle.

"Tell us the father's name," an anonymous voice demanded, "or we finish you here."

The men cocked their arms back.

"Why do you ignore me," she whispered as tears soaked into the mashed flesh of her cheek and burned. She took a deep, bloody breath, tilted her face skyward and screamed, "Adonai!"

God's name echoed along the street of mud brick adobe houses. Silence smothered the mob. A raven cawed from the crest of the rabbi's roof. She lowered her eyes and met the crowd's gaze. She discerned one word amidst their mumblings: "Messiah."

Breaths slipped as if greased out of her chest. She glanced down at the bulb on her belly. She looked back up at them with "Wait, that's not—" on her tongue, but stopped.

The hunched rabbi approached. His lips unzipped a four-toothed smile as he touched her belly. He looked up at her. "Is this true?"

The crowd stared at her under a bright, patient sun. Sweat and blood dripped off her chin. This answer will save me when he wouldn't, she thought. She imagined her son leading a triumphant revolt against the Romans and re-building Solomon's temple. The very people set to grind her into the earth would exalt her as the mother of their deliverer. She would live.

"Mary," the rabbi repeated.

She blinked out of her daydream and looked around. The cloud of dust and anger settled. Every eye glistened around her, like a galaxy of stars churning around their center.

Blood seeped into the corner of her lips as a smile grew. She swallowed the sour taste of blood and death, looked down at the rabbi and nodded. "Yes."