Yahweh walked through a wheat field in the southwestern part of the Jezreel Valley, restless. He had not stayed much longer in the other Valley, "His" Valley. It had been entirely too disturbing. A scene for which He had no script. He could not recall any other time in which He had felt this way - at least, not in His true memories. Those other, false memories were still coiling through the back of his brain, serpents in the grass waiting to strike once trodden on. And on top of them, He had His Horsemen. Yahweh stood in the middle of the wheat field and spoke the First's name. "How…"