The Wrath and the Dawn(120)

“Yes,” Kamyar said without hesitation. “I would.”

“Then it’s settled.” The stranger stood. “Will you share your shovel with me, Kamyar?”

? ? ?


For the rest of the afternoon, the trio worked to clear the floor of charred wood and waterlogged debris. The girl never gave the stranger her name and refused to call him anything but sahib, but Kamyar treated him like a long-lost friend with a common enemy. When the stranger gave them water and lavash bread to eat, the girl dipped her head and touched her fingertips to her brow in thanks.

A flush rose in her cheeks when the almost-beautiful stranger returned the gesture, without a word.

Soon, the day began bruising into night, and Kamyar wedged himself into a corner, his chin drooping to his chest and his eyes slowly falling shut.

The stranger finished arranging the last of the salvageable pieces of wood by the door and shook the dirt from his rida’ before pulling the hood of his cloak back over his head.

“Thank you,” the girl murmured, knowing that was the least she should do.

He glanced over his shoulder at her. Then the stranger reached into his cloak and removed a small pouch cinched shut by a leather cord.

“Please. Take it.”

“No, sahib.” She shook her head. “I cannot take your money. We’ve already taken enough of your generosity.”

“It isn’t much. I’d like for you to take it.” His eyes, which had appeared tired at the onset, now looked beyond exhausted. “Please.”

There was something about his face in that moment, hidden as it was in the play of shadows, in the lingering motes of ash and dust . . .

Something about it that signified a deeper suffering than the girl could ever hope to fathom.

She took the small pouch from his hand.

“Thank you,” he whispered. As though he were the one in need.

“Shiva,” she said. “My name is Shiva.”

Disbelief registered on his features for an instant. Then the sharp planes of his face smoothed.

Into an expression of peace.

“Of course it is.” He bowed low, with a hand to his brow.

Despite her confusion, she managed to respond in kind, her fingers brushing her forehead. When she looked up again, he had turned the corner.

And disappeared into the wending darkness of nights