"Amir! Amir, wake up!"

My eyes wide in panic, I bolted awake, to find my mother watching me anxiously with a worried expression. She relaxed a little, seeing I was awake, and rested her cold hand on mine. "It was just a dream," she whispered. "Only a nightmare."

"No Ammi," I said, remembering. "It was a memory." Abbu was saying goodbye again. In the palace, and he promised he would come home soon, right after that prideful prince released him, I wanted to say. But I knew better than to push my mother. She was a strong woman, even now when the prince ruined our lives together. But she had her breaking points too, I knew. I rose and began folding my thin, worn blanket and laid it on my cot.

Ammi busied herself sweeping the dirt floor furiously. She murmured softly, "Your father will come back soon. We shall see him, after he has completed the impossible tasks of that jealous prince." She turned herself to face me, catching my eyes with her golden ones. "In this life, for one of us, remember to never shirk hard work, Amr. If your hands ever turn white and soft, remember to work them, and work them hard, not like that prince."

I chewed my lip, hesitating, unsure of whether to tell my mother the unpleasant news. "He is king now Ammi," I said gently. "I saw it in my dream." He can do anything he wants now, with no one to stop him. I added silently.

Instantly, my mother's face darkened, and she began sweeping even more furiously, clouds of dust rising from the floor. "See if the goat has any milk to give."

"Yes Ammi." But I hesitated, standing in the doorway. "I saw… I saw something else in my dream." The words suddenly flew in a rush out of my mouth. "Ammi, Abbu came home."

She glanced up, her eyes softening a little. But her mouth stayed pressed in a worried line. "The goat," she reminded me patiently.

I hurried to obey her command, grabbing a tin bucket, and walking out of the hut to the simple, lean-to shelter for the goat a mile away. I milked whatever I could get out of her thin body, and hummed to keep her calm. Briefly, I wondered if I would get the time to visit Shaddad, my best friend and closest neighbor. He had been good friends with both my brothers, and we spent our spare time together, brewing up mischief whenever we could. He was currently training me how to use a sword, and I loved it. My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the goat. She bleated and threw her hoofs against the wall, nervous. I moved her away from the wall gently, and peeked into it. Through the large, ragged holes in the goat's shelter, I suddenly glimpsed a slow movement, and the sound of shuffling footsteps.

My humming abruptly stopped, and my heart skipped a beat. No one came around al-Lakik if they couldn't help it. Al-Lakik, the poor town, the nowhere land, my older brothers would say. People coming here, to the barren land of the desert hills only meant bad news. The only person that ever came here was Shaddad, and he always came on a path through the sand dunes.

I pushed away the bucket and ran, as fast as I could towards my home, my mother. As I ran, I passed a camel and a man dressed in worn clothes, slowly leading the camel by its rope. The camel led a cart containing a white bundle inside. The man looked up suddenly as I shot past and called out, "Oh boy! Do you know the family of… of Hamm-" His words faded in the rushing wind of my ears as I ran.

I had but one thought. Ammi… Ammi, Ammi. I must protect my mother. Abbu had left me in charge of her, I knew that from what he had told me with his eyes, when we parted years ago. And now I must not disappoint him. I ran on and unable to stop my speed, flung open the door, tripping over the weaving my mother had been working on. My mother was startled, and she got up quickly, running her eyes up and down me. "What is it? What happened?"

"There is… a camel… coming now, here." I panted. "We must leave… Now Ammi."

Wordlessly, my mother walked slowly to the doorway and gazed at the path. I knew that by now she could see a small figure slowly climbing the dirt road. "Ammi, we must go," I urged. "Abbu told us-"

"Abbu is not here anymore, Amr. It is now only you and me."

I stared at her, speechless. "But… Ammi. The camel had the sign of the royal palace. That means that the prin- that the king is after us."

My mother did not answer. Instead, she watched as the figure on the road became bigger and bigger. "Bring me my shawl, Amr." I looked at her hard, and brought it. She wrapped it around herself and returned to her weaving corner on the floor. But she did not weave; she simply sat. Waiting. I sighed, knowing this was her battle. I would do as she wanted, even if Abbu would not approve. I sat at her feet and rubbed her cold hands, warming them.

Finally, a loud knock sounded on the wooden door, and we both rose. But she opened the door. The same man I had passed not twenty minutes ago, stood, with the camel's rope clutched in his hand. He cleared his throat, and looking at us nervously, asked, "Are you…" he peered closely at an old, torn piece of parchment, "…the family of Hammad ibne al-Haddad?" He glanced up quickly.

"I am his wife," Ammi replied in her patient tone.

"I have a… a package for you. A gift." He gestured with his hand to the white bundle. "From the king himself," he added proudly with a grin. He went around to the cart and beckoned for us to come. We did.

Ammi realized a split second before me what it actually was. Who he actually was. She gasped loudly and uttered a gurgling sound, running back into the hut. I stared in horror at the figure outlined by the white sheet. "Abbu!" I screamed, throwing myself at the man trying to pull off the cover. "Don't touch him! He is my father!"

The confused man shook his head. "No, you think the king sent you…" He suddenly became silent as he too, realized in horror that the wrapped white bundle was in the shape of a human being. He paled and stuttered, "I thought… I didn't know… the king…"

"You carried him all this way and didn't know what was in there?" I asked in an icy tone, angry.

The man sputtered again and I calmly pointed to the camel. He was soon riding off as fast as the poor beast could go. I ran inside to check on my mother. She was lying on her cot, sleeping. I decided not to disturb her and ran back out to my father's body. I didn't want to look at him. I carried Abbu's body to the backyard; he weighed less than me. What did the king do to you, Abbu? I thought mournfully. But I would not look. It took me a few hours to dig the hole and lay him in, and then bury him. Tears were falling from my eyes but I couldn't stop.

I needed to help my mother, and soon. I was her only support. I wished dearly that my two older brothers were here to help me with this. But not even Ammi knew where they were. They had all set out to make a future for themselves, with the gold Abbu had won from the poetry contests that king had held.

There was a soft click behind me, and I whirled around to find Shaddad, my best friend, watching me. "I thought you might want some help," he explained apologetically. "I saw… the camel… It passed my home." He sat down and offered a covered basket of chicken eggs. "For your mother." I took it gratefully, murmuring my thanks. He just smiled sadly and nodded, studying his bare feet. I knew he had walked a whole five miles to get here, and I felt thankful to have him as my friend.

We stayed that way for a while. I wiped away the last traces of my tears and breathed deeply. I glanced at my friend. His jet black hair was ragged, his kurta and shalwar were dirty and had patches where there weren't holes. He was tan and strong, only a few years older than my age of sixteen. Shaddad was the only person who knew of Abbu's fate with the king. I only trusted him, and I knew he had instantly figured what had happened when he saw the camel.

"One day," I said breaking the silence. "One day, that king will pay. And he will regret this. I will make him." Shaddad rested a big hand on my shoulder. "There is a better way." I waited angrily for him to say more, but he wouldn't. He rose, and walked back to where he came from. And I suddenly realized something. My father had promised to come home. And he did. He did come home to me, to Ammi.

My mother after that was never well. We were often starving, and a month after Abbu had died, my mother passed away. I remember squeezing her hand as she lay on her cot. And I remember her warning me against revenge on King Walid as she lay on her deathbed. "It will do no good; you think that the craving inside you will be satisfied, but you are wrong. It will only cause regret, my son."