Prince of Knights (An Arabic Love Story)✓

Prince of Knights Chp1

 السلام عليكم

I hope you like this chapter. If you guys have any sort of quires you can ask in your comments and Insha'Allah I will reply to everyone.

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"Raise your words, not voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder." ― Rumi

A cold swift yet gentle gale rose from the ground and began to travel through the graveyard. Overhead, gray clouds passed the sun from time to time and cast a shadow over the years old headstones. Wind whispered and dry bushes rattled against tombstones. Then within a moment the wind hopped over the large mountain and ceased at once. Wind gazed, flabbergasted at the tribe that was situated on a large desert plain with uncountable tents a few miles away from the mountain range.

Fellow members of the wind fled in haste to the right so they could witness the heavenly tents. The remaining wind; flapped its wings then danced in circles to the left around the magnificent farms and palm trees. It perplexed wind as to how humans could create such a wonder with great concentration and perfection. Tents weaved from goat hair so that they would battle against rain and prevent water from getting inside. A sole member of wind peeked inside a tent and went rigid as to how warm it was inside. Quickly it leaped out and twirled around the small fire next to the tent and understood that indeed the fire was the reason why the tent was so delightfully warm.

People trod back and forth around their tents, immersed in their simple, Bedouin life. Shepherds led their flocks of goats to new pasture and a few men stood guard as their sheep and goat grazed long enough so they would lead them to their fence, meanwhile, they busied themselves either with Poetry or reciting verses of Quran.

Women, on the other hand, dressed in long dresses that covered them from neck to toe in many different but dark colors, their hair secured in a braid and hidden with shawls.  Few women milked their cows and camels inside the fence so that they would be able to make yogurt by dinner, and provide the families a healthy meal with butter and bread.

Children scampered around palm trees with extreme enthusiasm or chased after donkeys, blissful and joyful of winter days. Little girls clapped their hands and sang a song, uncoordinatedly. And there walked out a woman from her father's tent at the sight of her a naughty wind whirled around her and flapped the sleeve of her black dress, her beautiful dark hair hidden beneath her red shawl. It was time for her to bring water back to her house from the well. She walked with head down but grinned when a lamb from a nearby herd galloped up to her.

At once Raghad picked it up gently, the lamb wiggled in her arms and she quickly tightened her grip and nuzzled her cheek on its neck then planted a kiss on its tiny head. She beamed and kept walking towards the well that sat few feet away from their farms. Her fingers curled around the small soft yet rough fur of the lamb.

This morning her tribe seemed exceedingly tranquil and bright. "Allhamdullah". She breathed at the peaceful sight around her.

She then squatted down on dirt and let go of the lamb, another smile graced her lips as she eyed the lamb gallop to its mother and walk away from her. Raghad then turned around to face the well to fill her water bucket and take it back to her father's tent.

That was when desperate and frightful screams ignited in the air and alerted the whole tribe of Sheikh Faisal bin Saleh. Raghad let go of her clay pot and leaped to her feet then ran towards the ruckus. She came to a screeching halt and her eyes fell upon the massacre. A startled gasp escaped her lips as fear took control of her body.