One evening, a stronger breeze than usual blew through the oasis, making the air feel cool and pleasant even before the sun had begun to set. It tickled my ears and made me shake my head. That movement made it seem like a good idea to leap straight up in the air and kick out.
Oh, Yatimah, Jumanah said with a sigh. Can you ever be still?
You know she cannot, wise old Ajouz replied. She is Sarab’s foal, after all, and Sarab was just like her at that age. If Yatimah can learn to channel her energy as her mother did …
Tawil blinked sleepily. He had already collapsed on the sand near his dam’s feet. Be quiet, Yatimah, he complained. I’m tired. Stop jumping around like a silly sheep.
How dare you call me a sheep? I challenged him. I struck out at him with one foreleg, spraying sand in his face. That made him sneeze, and he let out an annoyed snort.
Safiya was just finishing with her chores. She laughed when she saw me dancing around the sleepy colt. “What’s the matter, Yatimah?” she asked. “Not ready for nighttime quite yet?”
She reached down and patted a ewe that was following her around. It head-butted her insistently, looking for more food.
“You’ll have to find the rest of your dinner yourself, my woolly friend,” the girl told the sheep with a fond smile. “Praise Allah, there is some grazing left for you yet, though the horses will be getting by on nothing but dates before long.”
She gave the animal a slap on the rump, shooing it off after its herdmates, who were wandering toward their usual sleeping spot. Then she stood for a moment, watching a couple of goats snuffle among the stone for bits of grass and weeds. One of the salukis sat watching them as well, his ears and nose twitching with each shift of the wind.
I left Tawil alone and bounded over to Safiya. She gave me a pat. Another breeze gusted past, but this time I stayed still. The girl tipped her face up.
“That cool air feels good after this hot day.” She glanced at the western sky. “There’s still time for a walk. I think I spotted a patch of green just a little way out beyond the edge of the oasis. There must be another small spring there. Shall we see if there might be some extra grazing for you, little one?”
I pricked up my ears. Though I was getting better all the time at reading the humans’ emotions and intentions, I still didn’t understand most of what they said in their language. However, I was beginning to pick up the meaning of certain words. One of those words was grazing, which I understood to mean food. Not the rich, delicious milk that Jumanah was still providing for both Tawil and me, but the food that the adult horses ate—grasses and certain tasty weeds. The older I got, the more I appreciated grazing.
I followed willingly as Safiya wandered out into the desert, shading her eyes against the setting sun as she looked for the spot she wanted. Behind us drifted the sounds of human voices, the soft bleating of sheep and goats jostling for the best sleeping spots, and the occasional nicker of a horse, yip of a dog, or sigh of a camel. In other words, the ordinary evening sounds of the oasis.
But I paid little attention, staying focused on Safiya. She began a game we played often, stopping and starting and turning while encouraging me to follow her every step. I was good at the game. Watching her, anticipating her next movement, gave my lively mind something to focus on. Safiya hardly had to move a muscle before I was with her, my muzzle at her shoulder.
She finally tested me by turning in a complete circle. When I stayed right with her, pivoting my hind end around her, she laughed with delight. Then she looked around. We were perhaps a hundred paces out into the desert by now. The setting sun’s rays washed the sand with gold and crimson.
“There it is.” Safiya peered down the slope of the next dune. Here the sand had a green tinge. “There’s not as much grass as I’d hoped. Still, it’s something.”
I saw the grass, too, and bounded forward to eat it. It was sparse, but it tasted delicious after several days of nothing but milk and dates and the occasional weed.
As I grazed, Safiya stroked me and worked a few twigs and burs out of my short mane. Then she ran her hands over my body, rubbing off bits of my foal coat to reveal the glossy black hair beneath. It felt so good that I stood there even after I’d eaten every blade of grass, simply enjoying the girl’s company.
“I don’t know why Father can’t see how special you are,” Safiya whispered after a few moments of silence. “I miss Sarab, too. But at least I have you to comfort me for missing her. Father won’t even let himself have that. It’s not fair to him, or to you.”
She sighed loudly. I swiveled my head around so I could see her face, wondering what was wrong.
“Oh, Yatimah,” she said, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Everyone says I mustn’t pester Father about you. But how can he be so stubborn?”
A gust of wind chased the last of her words away and blew up under my tail, making me jump. Safiya blinked and looked around. Night falls quickly in the desert, and the sky was already washed with deepest indigo.
“We should get back,” the girl said, glancing across the dunes toward the oasis. Someone had lit a lantern near the tent, and its light flickered and danced in the increasing breeze. The strains of lively music came from that way.
I lifted my head as my keen vision caught something strange in the opposite direction. It was farther out in the desert, a twisting, moving shape, larger than the largest camel. What could it be? I had no idea, but seeing it made me quiver with fear of the unknown.
“What is it, girl?” Safiya followed my gaze, then let out a gasp. “Oh no! A sandstorm!” she cried. “Hurry, we have to get back to camp!”
She turned and raced across the sand as fast as her human legs would take her. That wasn’t very fast, but I forced myself to remain at a trot, not wanting to leave her behind.
Horses’ eyes are set on the sides of our heads, which means we can see a good distance behind us. I could see that the sandstorm was gathering size and strength as it roared toward us. My body trembled, aching to burst into a gallop to try to escape the fearsome creature bearing down on us. But hearing Safiya’s frightened panting as she ran, I knew I couldn’t abandon her.
We struggled on together as the sandstorm reached us like some enormous, screaming falcon. Dust and sand swirled around us, getting into my eyes and nose and making it difficult to see or breathe. The air felt alive; it sent sparks crackling through me like during a lightning storm.
“I can’t see!” Safiya cried, holding on to my mane for all she was worth. “Yatimah, I don’t know which way to go! We’ll be lost in the desert!”
The panic in her voice gripped my mind, causing me to tremble with fear. All I could think about was getting away from the terrible storm that was attacking us. For a moment, I nearly pulled free and galloped back to the camp, back to the safety of my familiar herd. There I could hide behind Jumanah’s comforting bulk until the storm passed.
Instead, though, I forced myself to stay where I was. No matter what happened, I couldn’t leave Safiya. Especially when I knew she was frightened.
This thought made me feel calmer. Whatever happened, we would be together to face it.
And so I kept my pace slow and steady. The swirling sand forced itself into my nostrils, trying to trap the breath within my body. But I put my head down to block the worst of the wind, and in that way I was able to breathe well enough to keep going. Beside me, I heard Safiya coughing with almost every step.
Home. I knew we needed to find our way home. We would be safe there in the shelter of the bluffs.
It was impossible to see anything more than a step ahead. The air was thick with grit and dust and sand, like a living, churning wall blocking us off from the entire world.
But I didn’t need to see. My instincts told me which way to go. I struggled on against the wind, hardly feeling Safiya’s hands clutching me, though I knew she was there. Soon we were almost at the edge of the trees.
I heard one of the other horses cry out in alarm. That made me cry out in return and leap forward in a sudden panic. In my eagerness I paid no attention to where I was going, and I felt my leg scrape across a stray boulder that I hadn’t remembered was in our path. I staggered and almost fell, the howling sand stinging my eyes as they went wide with pain.
“Yatimah!” Safiya cried, her voice almost instantly whipped away by the wind. “Are you all right?”
My leg screamed with the impact, and for a moment I was ready to race off in any direction to try to escape the feeling. But Safiya was already bending over me, and so I forced myself to keep still, only turning my head away from the worst of the swirling wind. Sand pelted against me, adding to the pain in my leg, and I understood that I had to fight the urge to run. I had to trust Safiya. She would know what to do.
“You’re bleeding,” Safiya said in a voice tight with anxiety. She coughed again as another gust blew sand into her face and mine. “Come, we have to get you into the tent!”