How Dragons Survived the Flood

Prologue

Seen from above, small, dark shapes labored around an enormous, circular wickerwork boat, a gufa, sitting in the middle of a barren patch of land. This was the same as any of the gufas used to haul people and goods through the marshes around Uruk, with one exception — this was, by far, the largest. This was Noah's Folly. The Ark.

Nothing could sway Noah from his path, not lectures from his peers, not the loss of his youngest son, not thievery by his slaves. He had worked on this vessel for over a hundred years. It stretched across the land and still was not finished. The size alone was enough to cause any onlooker to question its purpose. One hundred and fifty cubits wide and deep with walls fifteen cubits high. Logs as big around as a man created a network to hold the bottom of the vessel off the ground supporting it just high enough so slaves could work underneath it.

Every day they applied sticky, black pitch to the underside of the vessel helping to stiffen and waterproof the fabric that was attached to the woven rope base. The rope, made from heart of palm and Tree of Life, was woven around like a basket between the boat's slender gopher wood ribs.

Gopher wood.

Everyone knew the round vessels were built with rushes and reeds only, but Noah, declaring it God's will, insisted on using wood.

For years upon years, all watched as the Ark was built; as the massive ropes were woven and spliced; as stout beams were rammed into the earth to help keep the sides stable; and, as the tension in the ropes was adjusted again and again, bending the wooden ribs in a gentle, upward curve.

Slowly it grew, becoming the vessel meant to fulfill God's prophecy.