When Elijah first arrived in the ravine, he could stand back ten paces and hear the brook bump small stones into each other. After a long period or neither dew nor rain, if he sat next to the water and made no sound of his own, he could just hear it glide through—but without offending so much as a pebble. Then came a morning he could only hear the stream if he poised one ear a few inches over the tiny flow. Today even this trickle was gone, disappeared into the mud.
Elijah sat and dug a hole with his fingers. The water which seeped in was only a little muddy, so maybe they could drink after all. While the particles settled, he dug a second hole.
“Go to Zarephath by Sidon. I’ve got a widow there who will feed you.”