Into the Shadows
The cold Bethlehem night hummed with frustrated murmurs. Inns overflowed, their doors shut against the weary. Mary, heavy with child, leaned against Joseph, her breath coming in ragged gasps as another innkeeper shook his head apologetically. "No room, good people. Not a single corner". Across the crowded square, another figure knew that same crushing disappointment. He was a man of striking contrast: black hair was placed above a face etched with travel, and eyes the startling colour of indigo seemed to absorb the dim lantern light, reflecting a deep weariness. He was not old, but his shoulders slumped with the weight of countless rejections. "Nothing, sir", a voice boomed from a doorway he'd just approached. "Try the next street, maybe, but I doubt it". He'd heard it a dozen times tonight. His dark features, perhaps his silent intensity, seemed to put people off even more readily than the general lack of space. He wasn't belligerent, mere...
