A fragile little basket is tossed about in the chaos of hippos, oars, and snapping maws of crocodiles. Inside this inconsequential weave of papyrus and straw, a tiny life, so much more fragile somehow than his surrounding cocoon. His small heart beats in time with the lulling rocking of his basket, eyes slipping closed into a light doze. The daylight returns as the lid is removed by hands that are smooth as the columns of the palace, having never worked a day in their lives. When little Moses opens his eyes, he gazes at a beautiful queen, his new mother.