The Ark of Noah

Previously

…Noah, his heart a well of both weariness and a burgeoning hope, felt it first. He stood at the edge of the great vessel, the scent of damp wood and animal musk familiar, yet now tinged with something new – the clean, sharp breath of air that had been absent for so long. He signaled to Naamah, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a gentle smile. She joined him, her hand finding his, a silent testament to their shared journey. “The rain has stopped, Naamah,” he said, his voice raspy from disuse and the lingering dust of the ark. “And the rocking… it’s gentler now. I think… I think the waters are going down.”