Written In The Scars

Chapter 14

After swiping an oil lmp and matches, she led him out to the yard where a lonely hut stood a distance away. The rotting door was conveniently unbolt but needed a nudge to open.

Husaam removed his hood and peeled off his cloak the moment they entered,  letting the heavy sodden material drop to the floor. His skin prickled with goosebumps, but it was better than the staying wet.

The girl stood wide-eyed watching him unstrap the leather belts across his chest and waist. The weapons clunked to the ground making her grimace at the sound.

"How did you get all of this?"

He ignored her and was about to gather his shirt up when the girl jumped forward stopping him.

"Wait!" she yelped, gripping his icy knuckles.

Husaam didn't realise he was holding his breath in until the woman stumble back, releasing her grip. He refused to acknowledge the heat that rose from her touch.

The glow of the lamp was dim, but it was enough for him to take in her appearance. She wore a faded grey dress with a tie at the waist and sat just above her ankles and ragged sandles, her hair fraying from its pleated pattern. He almost couldn't believe she was standing before him.

"Can you get me a towel at least, instead of just standing there gawking at me,"

"Oh um-" She mumbled before rushing out of the door.

Moments later she re-entered with a pile of fluffy cotton towels. Husaam snatched them off her and instantly began patting himself dry, before throwing a spare towel back to her.

She smiled gratefully and wrapped it around her neck, muffling her chin into  it.

Husaam stole a quick glance.

"Will you explain to me now?" She gently asked, patting her hair dry.

Husaam sighed, brushing his wet strands back. Despite their past, he couldn't reveal the truth to her or the reason why he was in Balqaas.

She would hate him. Not that it mattered.

"I'm on the run. That's all I can say, and trust me, it is for your own good that I don't disclose it to you. Now if you don't mind, I'd like a little rest. I'm exhausted, and the rain has worn me down." He yawned, grabbing for a sodden haystack and pulling it towards a dry spot beside a pile of wooden crates in the middle.

"Husaam-"

"Salma, please, tomorrow." He pleaded in a softer tone, mentioning her name for the first time in twelve years.

Salma gave a surrendering sigh.

"I'll be back with some more blankets," she resigned and left him in the embrace of the cold, damp hut.

***

Salma swept her eyes over the path behind her, making sure no one followed. When the coast was clear she gently knocked on the door of the hut, but when no answer came she knocked harder, only to find the hut empty with no sign of the man she snuck in. There was no evidence of his belongings insight, and a cloud of worry looked over her thoughts.

Had he left? After all these years, had he left without an explaination, or even a goodbye?

She sighed. She was naive to think that he would be happy to see her.

Salma huffed again and trudged back out of the hut. She took a piece of bread from the bowl that was hidden behind her shawl, and took an annoyed bite.