Badriya as-Sahra is sick of piling up camel dung and picking people's pockets for a living. Her world discriminates against women and orphans, and it is only her damned luck that she happens to be both. She yearns for more but can't do anything else...
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Badriya left a trail of sand in her wake. Ayaz coughed, waving the cloud away with his hand. "What are you—I didn't even say go!"
"Eat my dust!" she shouted back, laughing.
Letting out a frustrated groan, Ayaz urged Layl to move forward.
Badriya was several paces in front of him from her head start. Not a minute passed, and she was leagues away, her figure shrinking with each blink of an eye.
Ayaz snapped his reins, but Layl huffed in protest, his pace still unchanged. It had been years since Ayaz chose Layl among the horses in the Sultan's royal stables, and he realized his steed wasn't as fast as he used to be.
"Come on, Layl," Ayaz muttered. "I promise I'll reward you with your favorite treat once we win this race."
As if understanding his words, the horse galloped faster, making Ayaz gasp at his renewed speed.
Eventually, Badriya came to view and with her, the province of Al-Jeyad. Like most of the towns Ayaz had seen in his escapades with Idris and his other companions, its mute appearance merged with the color of the desert, not a bright hue of paint in sight. It was a stark contrast to Zarab and the other cities found in the center of the country, but despite that, Ayaz found the little towns more beautiful than the rest. It was their peace and quiet that made them more attractive than Zarab's cramped population and colorful chaos.
Badriya looked behind her and her eyes widened. , For the briefest moment, her horse slowed. . Ayaz seized this chance, pushing Layl forward and overtaking her. But even when he did, the two of them still entered the town around the same time.
Clueless passers-by jumped at the sight of the two youths racing on horseback. Ayaz yelled an apology as he veered Layl to the left, passing by men drinking outside their flat-roofed, mud brick houses.
This wasn't the first time Ayaz came to Al-Jeyad. The village, like many others, was founded as a simple layover for weary travelers journeying from far and wide, but an oasis it was not intended to be. Hence, the lack of beauty of Al-Jeyad's infrastructure.
Ayaz then turned another left, and finally, from the distance, he saw the familiar bustling of townsfolk selling and trading various merchandise in makeshift tents and stalls.
The bazaar.
He glanced behind him. Badriya was on his tail, and she was almost within his arm's reach.
He imagined that she would go some other way to the bazaarsince she outright told him that she didn't trust him. He never thought she'd actually follow him.
Ayaz dug his nails into his palms. I won't let her win.
Just as he was about to turn around, Badriya held her reins with a single hand while she pulled out a knife. The same knife that she used to defend herself from the dune robbers.
