Even at night when the world was supposedly cooler, the air was stifling. It was the downside of living in a desert-like country like Judea, there was no relief from the summer heat. Over the years though, the people have learned to cope with the rising temperatures in their own unique ways. From building shade to wearing dampened cloths, the people of Israel had learned to live with the heat, but some nights… it got the better of some of its residents.

Unfortunately for a fifteen-year-old Hazael, this night had been one of those nights.

He had been lying down for hours, trying against all odds to sleep, but his throat was too dry and his body was too slick with sweat to allow himself to drift off. All he could think of was how his thirsty he was, even as the night dragged on and the rest of the city slept around him. There wasn’t even anything he could do as the nearest well down by the rows, a considerable distance away from his home. That area of the city was hardly a safe place to travel to regardless. The distance was clearly too far… that was until the heat became unbearable and Hazael decided that he needed the relief from the well as limited as it would be.

With this resolve, carefully, so that he may not wake his brothers nearby, Hazael rose from his bed. He was deathly silent as he moved about the room gathering the necessary clothes needed for this nighttime excursion. Every shift from Jonah or light snore from Tiras brought him to a stop as he stared wide-eyed at the offending brother, silently praying that they would not rouse from their slumber. Luckily for him, all the other boys were fast asleep and within a few moments, Hazael was able to slip out of the shared room and out into the streets once he found his shoes by the door. It had surprisingly not been that difficult to sneak out.

Truthfully, it had almost been too easy. Perhaps that’s why the boy kept glancing over his shoulder as he entered the street and the sense of uneasiness did not lift until he was out of the sight of the door. Only then was he convinced that he wouldn’t be caught by one of his family members. Though, truthfully Hazael didn’t know why he was so concerned about being found sneaking about. His father wouldn't care as it didn’t matter how long Hazael stayed up, he would get up at the same time as everyone else. There would be no lazing about in his family, no matter how desperately sleep was needed. It was just a simple price that he would have to pay in the morning for the previous night's actions. His mothers would probably just send him back to bed without another word. His siblings would just shout at the fifteen-year-old before turning back over into their sleep.

It was probably just the principal of it that made him not want to be discovered. Although it was not technically wrong, the whole concept was something that was not wholly good either. This was just something that was in that morally grey ground that Hazael was afraid to confront and to think… he was only leaving in search of a drink of water!

However, once Hazael was away from the house there was no need for him to be quiet. He made his way through the streets as if it were the day, relying only on the moon and his own memory to guide him to the shared well for his neighborhood. The walk itself was peaceful and Hazael couldn’t remember the last time he had been in the city when it was so quiet and so calming. Out here, without children screaming or dogs barking, he could focus on his own thoughts for once instead of trying to block out everything else. It was nice to say the very least. As the minutes ticked on and Hazael found himself almost at the well he wondered if it would be worth the exhausted mornings to experience such blissful solitude -- a luxury he could not afford while his family of ten people was crammed into such a small space.

At the moment, he believed it would be.

Before long with his naturally hurried gait, he arrived at the well, covered with wooden planks so that no one could slip and fall into the water below. Leaning over, Hazael moved one of the looser boards and shifted it out of the way. He could remember from back when he was a young child, he would participate in contests with some of the other local children to see who could make the loudest splash when they dropped stones into the water. Although he never won, he still had fun while playing these silly games and Hazael even smiled at the memory as he grabbed a small bucket nearby and began to carefully lower it into the water below. The well itself was not very deep, so it only took a moment for him to hear the familiar splash. With some careful maneuvering, he was able to dunk the bucket beneath the surface and it quickly filled with the liquid gold his throat so eagerly craved.

Now it was only a matter of getting it back up to the surface.

Hazael was not a strong boy. Even at fifteen, he was scrawny and his body was defined by the muscles that his older brother had. So, it took a considerable amount of effort from the boy to get the full bucket back up to the surface. Soon the night air around him was filled with grunts and groans of frustration, but with a little bit of elbow grease, as well as some cursing he would never dare admit to, the bucket passed through the opening and was on the surface. It had barely touched the ground when Hazael cupped his hands and brought some of the water to his parched throat, down nearly a full stomach’s worth of the liquid.

Once his body could take no more, Hazael took a preventative measure against the heat and splashed some of the water onto his face. He also dipped a strip of cloth he had brought within him into the water and tied it around his head, not bothering to wring it dry first. Silently cursing himself for not bringing a canteen or anything else with him to save some of this water, Hazael then poured the rest of the water down into the well. It roared like a waterfall as it hit the stillness below, almost deafening him in the quiet of the night.

Almost.

As Hazael was putting the bucket aside and was trying to refasten the hatch, he heard the unmistakable noise of crunching gravel nearby, coming from the general direction of where the Greek encampment was on the other side of the city. He froze at the noise, glancing over in the general direction of where the stranger was approaching from, but his eyes were not well enough adjusted in the darkness to see who the source of the noise was. A small flame bounced in the air in time with the footsteps, making it clear that whoever was approaching him was also holding a torch.

Confused as to who would be walking about at this hour, Hazael straightened to his full height and puzzledly looked in the direction of the approaching stranger before calling out with all the natural confidence of a mouse, “Who’s there?”

Little did Hazael know it was someone he’d didn't know, but would rather not meet.