Written In The Scars

Chapter 2

Haifa Binti Abdul Hameed was buzzing with excitement. Her mother was busy in the kitchen preparing for a large meal tonight, in commemoration of her father's return from a major expedition. Despite his old age, her father insisted on attending saying his body was still strong, most likely from all the training he endured since a young age, but promised her mother it was his last. He had been away for almost half a year, which of course bought worry to her, her sister and mother, especially when he wasn't able to send them word of his safety.

As per the customs, a crier had returned one month earlier bearing news that the battle had not gone well, especially with the rumoured life-changing injury the second prince had returned with three months earlier.

"I'm heading out now Mama," she beamed, giving her mother a squeeze.

"Habeebati, you've hugged me for the eighth time today, is everything ok?"

"Yes, I just want your warmth,"

"You're twenty-three years old but you still cling to me like a baby! I need to get you married off soon, so you can cling to your husband instead of me," Yumna joked showering her daughter with flour, but her daughter's smile faltered.

"Inshallah," Haifa sighed, remembering today's earlier events.

"Habeebati, I'm sorry. Don't be too saddened about that Yasir boy, he was not the one and Inshallah, Allah will give you someone so much better,"

"It's fine, and you're right, I just have to be patient," Haifa replied, heading out of the kitchen. "I'll see you soon, Salam,"

As she headed for the exit, Haifa glanced at the mirror and laughed at her reflection. Splotches of white stained her blush-coloured hijab, and she patted them away before sliding on her sandals made of reed wood. Instinctively, her hand brushed over her waist, feeling for her dagger under her abaya. She always bought it with her whenever she stepped out of the house, of her own father's advice. At first, it felt awkward, but now the dagger had become part of her own body.

Haifa walked to the foot of the stairs.

"Diya, will you hurry up? The battalion is most likely marching through the city as we speak, you know crowded it gets!"

Seconds later, a clambering of footsteps could be heard as her sister hopped down the mud-made stairs, bringing a trail of dust behind her.

"I couldn't decide on a colour to match my dress," her sister huffed, still tucking her hijab in place.

"Any colour would have worked," Haifa scoffed, rolling her eyes at her sister's cream dress.

Finally, they had started making their way to the town square. The season of spring bought luscious weather to Balqaas, the temperature being neither too hot nor cold. Speckles of white clouded the skies, sometimes bringing light rain but today, the sun had shooed them away. Despite its location in the Arabian Peninsula, Balqaas weather was mild compared to its neighbouring countries. Snow-peaked hills lined the southern borders frequently blowing its icy winds across the country, nullifying the sweltering heat that came from the north's golden dessert. Balqaas was a country that strived on its fertile soils and rich scenic greenery, which became the perfect habitat for a variety of plants and wild animals. Streets were lined with date trees, bearing the most abundant of fruit during harvesting season and gardens flourished with greenery, winding vines crawling up the buildings whilst at the foot, colourful flowers bloomed especially during this time of the year.

Despite her father's two-decade-long title, her family lived their lives simply. Haifa and her sister had spent their entire lives in the same neighbourhood on the outskirts of the city. Surrounded by family from both their parent's sides, they grew up going to the same schools as their cousins, making memories with them on dusty streets and exploring the caverns and caves that were walking distance from the city gates. Haifa was thankful that her parents had chosen a life surrounded by family over riches, teaching them to be thankful for the little things and to not boast about their father's occupation.