One Thousand and One Nights

xxiv

Hello everybody, here is my super very late Christmas gift!

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 The three women met in the same hut where Amar and Scheherazade's first (and only) interaction had taken place. Then, they were on their way to the Al-Kadari tribe.

  'We have things that might be helpful too.' Amar shouted over the noise of hooves and sand. 'The women use them to heal the injured.'

  The injured. The word sounded so normal, as if it spoke of soldiers during a war. But perhaps these women were going through that same wreckage everyday, just in their own homes.

  Nada was silent throughout the entire journey, but Scheherazade could see her inner turmoil in her eyes. After tonight, there would be a lot of people who had died for the sake of Marash, and there seemed to be no witchcraft to protect the ones closest to their hearts.

  They were on the road for hours, until Amar raised a hand signalling them to stop.

  Nothing looked out of the ordinary. They seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, sand beneath their feet and the scorching sun overhead, but Amar looked weary as she jumped down her horse and told them to do the same.

  'It takes thirty minutes on foot to reach the tribe. But first, you two need to cover your faces as best as you can. If anyone sees us or recognises you, we will be considered dead.'

  Scheherazade brought the black veil that Amar had given her over her head and face, making sure that only her eyes were visible. Amar had given both her and Nada old, torn clothes, claiming that if the tribe caught them and saw their expensive clothes, they would instantly know their social standing.

  Scheherazade was grateful that the girl had thought that far ahead, because she had surely missed that detail.

  As they walked closer to tribe, Scheherazade thought about the irony of the situation. Their only hope to save Marash was hidden in the source of its chaos. 

  She was surprised with her own willingness to risk her own life. But doing this, helping Shahryar and the kingdom, came like a second nature to her, and it finally gave her a purpose.

  Back home, her only purpose was to avenge her mother and run away. At the brothel, her only purpose was to make enough money to build herself a nice life. But she could not bear the thought of the quiet life that she had once longed for so desperately.

  The palace was the only place where she had felt both danger and safety, hatred and love. It was the first place she had made friends with someone other than Karam. And it was the first place that felt like home to her.

  Soon, the smoothness of the sand was interrupted by small black dots. As they grew closer, those dots turned into tents. And a further inspection almost made Scheherazade recoil at the sight.

  Even though it seemed normal form a distance, up close, the dwelling of the Al-Kadari tribe was a collection of patched-up tents and vicious men walking around, their smiles cruel and hands ready to kill. There was blood on the sand, but its source was out of sight. And the men talked furiously, their voices high and words laced with malice.

  Amar stood at a distance from the crowd, looking at the other two both as if to say are you ready? and are you seeing this?

When Scheherazade gave her a small nod, she muttered for them to go fast and sprinted, quickly ducking under a nearby tent.